12 Months
by bobness
Summary: A normal year can sometimes hold the best memories for father and son. Rated K plus for slight language. Now complete.
1. January

"Dad, dad!" Alfred came flying down the stairs at lightning-fast speed, his voice echoing through the rather large house. "Look, Dad, the ground is COVERED in snow!"

Arthur finished flipping a pancake (barely making it land correctly in the frying pan) and looked up at his son. Truth be told, he had already seen the snow, but he didn't want to wake Alfred. He had been hoping the boy would actually sleep in for once, especially after last night. One nightmare after another, it seemed. He was just rather surprised that Alfred was able to get up from such a sleepless night. "Is it?" He smiled. "I suppose that's why you're dressed up."

Indeed, Alfred was already bundled tightly in a large coat and those boots that had always been too big for him. His young son gave him a beaming grin. "I saw the snow and I knew you'd let me out, so I put everything on myself!"

"I see that," Arthur commented, setting his spatula on the counter. "However, you can' t go outside until you put on that scarf that Aunt Judy made for you."

Alfred's face instantly fell. "But, Daddy! That scarf is too big."

Arthur, however, wasn't exactly listening. Instead, he was searching through the closet in the hallway. Dust flew out from a few boxes as Arthur finally found what he was searching for. "Ah-ha!" He pulled out the scarf with a flourish. "Good as it was last year when you received it!" Ignoring Alfred's protests, the Englishman began wrapping the thick, white cotton around the neck of the young boy. "See? It'll keep out the cold, and it does look good. Did you ever write Aunt Judy a thank-you letter?"

The boy shrugged, which Arthur knew clearly meant, 'of course not'. He gave Alfred a scolding frown, but just decided to brush it off. He wasn't going to ruin this day for his son. "Before you go, though, how about eating some pancakes?"

"Oh, is that what you're burning?" Alfred asked, pointing toward the kitchen. Arthur turned around to see puffs of black smoke coming from the stove. He quickly ran to save what was left of the pancakes, struggling to keep in the curse words he knew were about to explode from his mouth. He really didn't want to set a bad example for Alfred. It was hard, however, not to say what he really wanted to say as he turned off the stove and scraped his breakfast into the trash can.

Alfred had his hand on the door the whole time, watching and waiting for his dad to erupt. When the yelling never came, he visibly relaxed and opened the door, letting in a very chilling blast of air. "Hey!" Arthur called, waving smoke out of his face. "I still have cereal!"

"Nah, I'll just eat later, Dad!" Alfred replied, stepping out into the cold.

"O-Okay, then! Just make sure to stay where I can see you. No going out into the street or talking to strangers or-"

"I got it, Dad!" Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes. Arthur knew he had always hated it whenever his father fretted. The door shut and, thankfully, the cold air stopped rolling in. The man turned up the thermostat, rubbing his arms, and then looked down regretfully at his ruined pancakes. _Well, I've always liked Fruity Pebbles._

* * *

><p>Alfred came running back in nearly an hour later, snowflakes stuck to his toboggan and his nose and cheeks looking awfully red. "Goodness!" Arthur exclaimed, setting down his book. "You're a mess."<p>

For once, the young boy was too breathless to say much, only letting out, "It's really cold out there."

Arthur took off the young boy's mittens, rubbing the small hands with his own. "You take off the rest of your snow clothes and go put on something warm. I'll fix you some hot chocolate, okay?" His son nodded and Arthur quickly kissed the ice-cold fingertips of the boy's hand before quickly scurrying to the kitchen.

He busied himself for a few minutes with Alfred's hot chocolate (luckily, the instant-cocoa packets were easy to make, even for him), making sure he put in a few marshmallows. When Alfred came down, the drink was prepared, and his son eagerly took it, wrapping his hands around the mug to warm up.

Once Arthur quickly fixed his own drink (tea, of course; he couldn't imagine going a day without it), he sat down and smiled at Alfred. "So, what all did you do out there in Antarctica?"

"Daddy, it's not Antarctica. It's just our front yard," Alfred explained, giving his father an innocent look.

Arthur had to laugh. "Well, it sure does feel like it out there, right?"

Alfred nodded and took a sip of his hot chocolate before answering the original question. "I made a snowman out in the front yard. I need to go back out there later to give him a hat. He already has my scarf."

_How did I not notice?_ Arthur wondered, trying, and failing, to hold back a grin. "Does it? And, just whose hat are you planning on using?"

With a sheepish look, Alfred responded, "Wellll, I was hoping I could use one of yours."

"Were you?"

"C'mon, Dad, please? You have a lot of weird hats and stuff, and my snowman could really use them!" Alfred looked at him with wide eyes, his face making it clear that Arthur couldn't say no. However, the older man liked having his fun once in a while.

"I'm not sure," he said, pretending to think about it. "Those hats are rather important to me." He rubbed his chin as Alfred put on an even more adorable puppy-dog face. "Let's see. I believe you may, so long as it comes back in perfect condition."

"Yay!" Alfred cheered, quickly giving his father a large hug. "Thanks, Daddy! I promise I'll bring it back!" He did a little dance in his seat, spilling some hot chocolate on the table.

"Careful," Arthur scolded, wiping it up. "You don't want to get any on yourself, do you?"

Alfred, of course, just gave him an innocent smile. "Hey, Daddy? Why don't you come out to play with me?"

Sipping his tea, Arthur considered the question. Living in the south was very warm. They certainly didn't gain too many snow days such as this one. As a matter of fact, this might be the first _real_ snow day that Alfred had ever seen. _And, though I'm not one for snow at all, I suppose it wouldn't kill me to go play with him for an hour._ "Only for a little bit," he finally replied, ruffling his son's hair with his hand. "But, when I start getting too cold, we're coming right back in to warm up some by the fire."

Of course, once outside, Arthur realized he was going to have more fun than expected. After helping Alfred finish the snowman (which Alfred loudly proclaimed looked just like his father), the two staged a snowball fight. Forts were built and blows were exchanged. Arthur made sure to lose, though; how awful would it be for a father to dominate his own son in a snowball fight. It just didn't really seem right to win.

Snow angels were then made all about the backyard, until Arthur finally realized how cold he was getting. It didn't seem to bother Alfred much, but, then again, he was probably layered up more. "Alright, Alfred, why don't we go in now?"

Alfred finished the snow angel he was working on and stood up. "Okay!" He didn't seem to be too tired, and considering how much energy the boy had to spare, Arthur seriously doubted he was. He fell into step beside Arthur, taking hold of his father's hand. The two gloves wrapped around each other, and Alfred gave a beaming smile. "Thanks for playing with me, Dad."

It was little acts like this that made being a father worth it. Feeling the pride rise in your throat when you realized just how much a certain little one loved you was something that Arthur felt everyone needed to experience. His own face grew in a smile as he looked down at his son. "No problem. If the snow is still around tomorrow, we'll play some more."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, then tugged on his scarf. "Can we buy another scarf, though?"

* * *

><p>They didn't go buy a new scarf, much to Alfred's displeasure, but it didn't matter much anyway. The next day, the snow was melted by the odd temperature changes that the south possessed, and by midday, only the snowman was left. Alfred stared out the window miserably. "Daddy, why can't we move somewhere colder, where it will snow all the time?"<p>

Arthur, busy folding laundry, shrugged, "Where are you suggesting?"

"I dunno," Alfred muttered, resting his face on the palm of his hands. "Alaska."

"Alaska?"

"Yeah. There are penguins there, and it's always cold."

Arthur thought this over for a few minutes before responding. "Alfred, I don't believe penguins live in Alaska."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, I know some live in Antarctica, but I'm not certain about Alaska." He finished folding the towels and turned to Alfred. "But, no, we'll be staying here. Sorry to disappoint you." He passed the towels off to his son. "Now, go put these away in the closet and work on your homework. You'll have school tomorrow, remember that."

Taking the towels, Alfred gave his father a pout before stomping away upstairs. Arthur watched him until he closed the door to his room, then sighed. It seemed that once the snow melted away, so did Alfred's positive attitude. _Just give him some space. He really wanted the snow to stay._ Besides, Arthur knew he'd be better once dinnertime came around. Alfred was always up for dinner. _Speaking of which, I'd better cook something. Cottage pie sounds good today._

And, so, he began preparing his cottage pie. All was going well and the pie was well into cooking, when his doorbell rang. He quickly answered it and bit back a groan. "Why, hello, Francis. Nice of you to drop by."

Standing in front of him was the definition of annoying, somehow managing to look spectacular even in a heavy coat. Francis Bonnefoy was the neighbor from across the street. He moved in hardly a year ago, all the way from France. Their first meeting had been disastrous, and Arthur had harbored a deep hatred for the man ever since.

Of course, Francis ignored all of that hate, if only for the sole purpose of getting on Arthur's nerves. "_Bonjour_, Arthur!" he greeted, giving Arthur his usual charming smile. "I was taking a walk and just happened to be passing your house, so I thought I'd drop by to see how you were doing."

Arthur merely glared. "You live right across the street. Don't make it sound as if you went out of your way to visit me." He tried shutting the door but Francis blocked it with his foot and stepped inside.

"It's quite chilly out there, no?" he asked, running his fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair. "You do not mind if I warm myself up, do you?" And, without waiting for a reply, he smiled and said, "No, of course you don't."

Knowing that the Frenchmen wasn't going to leave so easily, Arthur shut the front door, sighing. "Sure. Stay in here for all I care."

Francis was always one to invite himself in, that had always been for sure. Arthur never could quite figure out exactly why. _It's probably a French thing,_ he thought, watching his neighbor relax on the couch. "And, where is young Alfred?" Francis asked, once he situated himself.

With one more glare, Arthur gave his son a call. "Alfred! Come down, Francis is here!"

His son shot out in a minute, racing down the stairs at top speed. "Francis!" he exclaimed, giving his neighbor a large hug. "Guess what? I built a snowman the other day, and Dad helped me, you can see his hat. Oh, and we had a snowball fight and I beat him, just 'cause I'm awesome like that! Then, we made ten thousand snow angels and we drank hot chocolate afterward, but because all the snow melted, you can't see it anymore."

When the boy paused to catch a breath, Francis intervened. "Well, Alfred, I did actually see your snowman. And, it was a very _magnifique_ snowman. Especially for one that Arthur helped make." He gave Arthur a wink, who turned away, fuming inside. Alfred, not catching the insult, continued on happily.

"Yeah, but now I have to do my homework and it's real boring. Hey, Francis, did you bring me anything to eat?"

"We're going to have dinner shortly," Arthur pointed out. "Which reminds me, I'd best take it out of the oven."

Francis nodded, as if this all made sense. "That's what I smelled burning."

Ignoring his taunts, Arthur made his way to the kitchen and opened the oven door. It turned out that Francis wasn't lying. "Damn!" Arthur exclaimed, waving away a puff of black smoke. He was quickly joined by the other two, who looked on unsurprised.

"It's not _that_ burnt," Alfred commented, trying to be kind. "You've made worse before, remember?"

Arthur just groaned into the palm of his hand and shook his head. "No, this is awful. We were supposed to have a good dinner, and I completely ruined it."

He was waiting for Francis to say some snide remark, but it never came. Instead, he heard, "Why not have dinner over at my place for tonight. I'm certain I could come up with something real quick."

Francis WAS a good cook, even Arthur had to admit that (but only to himself). They had eaten over at the Frenchman's house a few times, and Arthur had always enjoyed the food. Alfred was certainly making it difficult to say no, what with his cheering and jumping up and down. "Well, all right, but just for tonight. I suppose Alfred enjoys your cooking better, anyway."

"_B__ien sûr_," Francis replied smugly. "Who wouldn't?" In reply, he earned himself another glare, which he promptly ignored as he ushered Alfred out of the kitchen.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

**-Cottage pie or shepherd's pie is a meat pie with a crust of mashed potato. According to Wikipedia, it can be found in many different varieties and in many different places, but it is a traditional British dish. It looks pretty tasty, too...**

**-Snow days are a big deal in the south (or, at least where I live). If there is so much as a SPECK of snow, schools close. Seriously. It's pretty freaking awesome. Except when they close and there's little to no school at all. In relation to this, the snow goes away VERY quickly. One day it's here, the next it's gone. So, we cherish the snow and play in it as much as possible before it disappears.**

**-'Bonjour' means hello. Duh.**

**-'Magnifique' means magnificent.**

-**'Bien sûr' means of course not. According to Google Translator, anyway...**

**-Not the best chapter in the world. I knew I had to add Francis in because, duh...he and Arthur are hilarious together. I've always loved seeing both of them in a story, especially when they AREN'T being paired up :D Except better chapters later on, and plese feel free to review or shoot me a comment/question/challenge (I'm always up for quick challenges, guys!).**


	2. February

**Chapter Two focuses on Valentine's Day for our father and son! I do not own Hetalia or the characters (sadly enough).**

* * *

><p>He frequently gave her quick glances, when he was sure no one else was watching. She sat across the room, always so <em>pretty<em>. It was as if she were a goddess stuck here on Earth. Or, so Alfred thought, after learning about mythology in his fourth grade history class. Because there was no way a girl that gorgeous could be human. Once more, he peeked over. There she was, laughing and chatting away with some of her friends. _If she could just be my girlfriend,_ he thought, getting lost in yet another one of his daydreams. _It would be totally awesome!_ He imagined their wedding, and he decided that they'd have a lot of yellow at the ceremony. She seemed to like yellow, for she wore it nearly every day. His mind began to wander off more and more. Which was why, when the teacher clapped her hands for attention, Alfred jumped up, causing one of his neighbors to shoot him an odd look.

Blushing from embarrassment, he piled all of his attention on the teacher. Well, most of it, anyway. "Okay, class, Valentine's Day is in a week from now! So, until the 14th, we will be using art time to make Valentine cards! Then, we will have a small party, and you will be allowed to pass your cards to your classmates."

Excited chattering took place all around the classroom as the young boys and girls already began designing their ideas for cards and thinking how great it would be to have a party, and perhaps there would be cookies involved. Alfred, for one, was a huge lover of cookies, but he had to worry about making the card perfect and getting it to her and, _oh, what if all the other kids get mad or jealous and tease me._ It was a large burden for such a small child.

* * *

><p>When he was picked up by his father later that day, Arthur noticed that his son was uncharacteristically silent. "What's on your mind, Alfred?"<p>

At first, the young boy didn't answer, but he finally gave a small sigh. "Daddy, have you ever been in love?"

The question took Arthur by surprise. Alfred didn't usually ask about Arthur's previous love life. It seemed almost like a tabooed topic. But, figuring he only had to respond with 'yes' or 'no', he gave his answer. "Yes." There. Simple enough. _No more on the subject, now, lad,_ was what he said in his mind.

"Did you ever give her a Valentine's Day card?" Of course, Alfred pressed on.

Arthur's grip slightly tightened on the wheel. "I can't remember, Alfred. It's been a while." He glanced over at his son, who's bright, blue eyes were staring at him. "Why do you want to know?"

Alfred began playing with his fingers. "Well, see, there's this girl..." Upon hearing this, Arthur's mouth twitched. Ah. So, his little boy fancied some girl. He could almost sigh with relief, and listened as Alfred continued. "Her name is Susan Carpenter, and she's got black, curly hair and green eyes, kinda like yours, but she's real pretty and wears yellow and loves pandas and likes to color. I wanna make her a Valentine's Day card, but I don't know how."

Making a careful left turn (Arthur could never be too careful with his driving), his father asked, "What do you mean you don't know how? Just cut out a heart and write 'I love you'."

"Dad!" Alfred whined. "That's not how it's done! I wanna make it awesomer."

"More awesome, Alfred," Arthur corrected. "And, why don't you write a poem on it? You know, _roses are red, violets are blue._ Girls like sweet stuff like that."

Thinking it over, Alfred realized that his father was absolutely right. Girls _did_ seem to like stuff like that (though Alfred honestly couldn't fathom an idea why), and writing a poem was easy. "I'd have to make it cooler. That one is childish."

Arthur shrugged, pulling into the driveway. "Yeah, I've always thought so, too."

* * *

><p>And, so, life went on normally for the two. Alfred continued to stress about his secret crush and his Valentine's Day card for her, and Arthur continued to listen patiently, usually with amusement, as Alfred explained how the card-making process was turning out. On top of that, Arthur was being worked harder and later this week at the bookshop he owned and ran. Two of his three employees were out- one was sick and the other took some trip to some island with some girlfriend. Arthur didn't really pay much attention to the details, he was just worried about how he'd be able to juggle the long hours he'd be forced to take on. Getting Alfred home from school was the most important thing, but he somehow managed to work it out in a civilized manner with Francis, to where his neighbor would pick Alfred up once school let out, and keep him until Arthur was finally able to close down his small shop for the day. It was quite tiring, but that's what sometimes happened when you opened a business.<p>

Therefore, once the weekend rolled around and his employees were able to come back and take over for Saturday, Arthur welcomed Friday night with open arms. Alfred had gone to sleepover at a friend's house, and though he loved his son, Arthur was looking forward to some time alone. He poured himself some wine and was sitting back to read a good book when the doorbell suddenly rang.

He was irritated enough to just let whoever it was stand out there until they realized no one would come, but the ringing didn't go away. _Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong._ Fed up, Arthur threw his book down on the table next to his wine and raced to fumble with his door, muttering curses the whole time. When he did finally get it open, he was dissatisfied. Pissed, actually. Because, standing there was no one other than Francis. "_Bonjour_, Arthur!" he greeted, inviting himself in.

"Do come in," Arthur replied sarcastically, shutting the door. Great. Now he'd never get any peace. What with that frog crashing his relaxation. "What are you even doing here?"

Francis grinned. "Well, I heard that Alfred would be away, so I decided to come and pay my favorite neighbor a visit. Quite considerate of me, no?"

Arthur just glared. "Actually, I was in the middle of-"

"Ooh, wine!" Francis ignored him and grabbed Arthur's wine glass, taking a few sips. "Very tasty, too. I guess you come in handy when it comes to choosing wine that will satisfy my palette."

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur tried calming himself. _I just have him over for a few hours, and then I can get back to my book. I'm a gentleman. I can't just kick him out._

So, two hours later, Arthur found himself sitting on the couch with Francis, feeling a little tipsy from the wine. Surprisingly enough, the two were actually having a pleasant conversation, revolving around Alfred and his love.

"How sweet!" Francis exclaimed, pouring Arthur another glass. "If he needs help on his poem, he should always come and ask me. I am very skilled with helping others in their love life."

"Are you now?"

"Indeed. Now, I could even help _you_, if need be. You seem like you could do with a little extra love. You're way too uptight, Arthur! You need a girl in your life, or a few."

And, all he got was silence. For most of the night, Arthur had been pretty talkative- most likely the wine, Francis had to presume- so for Arthur to suddenly become mute was slightly odd. He didn't press it, and, a few minutes later, Arthur spoke. "She left me."

Francis looked up. Arthur's voice had been very quiet, almost too quiet. Maybe he hadn't heard correctly. "Pardon?"

"She left me," Arthur repeated, a little bit more loud this time. "My girlfriend."

Francis blinked. He had never heard any mention of Arthur's previous love life, so this was certainly off. "What do you-"

Arthur stared down at his wine glass. "She was gorgeous, Francis. I asked her out, and one date led to another, and soon, I fell in love. Then, we found out she was pregnant. With Alfred." He clenched his fists on his knees, expression hardening as he thought of these memories. Francis listened with rapt attention, catching every word. "We were both young and foolish and it never meant to happen. She instantly decided to do an abortion. I was going to go along with it, but it seemed wrong. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that we were having a child. The baby didn't deserve to die because of our mistakes. I mean, he would be my child. OUR child. How could anyone kill their own child? We had a huge argument. I managed to convince her to have the baby. And, she did, and we named him Alfred, and he was the cutest baby ever."

His voice caught in his throat as he went on. "We moved in together and she didn't give Alfred so much as a single glance. I cared for him, and she completely ignored him. If he was crying for a bottle, she'd tell me to give it to him. If he needed his diaper changed, I'd be the one to do so. For one week, this went on. And, then, I woke up one day and she was gone. All of her belongings were gone, too. Everything that she owned. It was just Alfred and me." He shut his eyes. "He used to ask about her, about what she was like. I would get short and snap at him to do something better than ask me questions, so he finally stopped. I can't bear to tell him..." He looked up at Francis, his eyes brimming with tears. "What child wants to hear that their own mother never loved them?"

Francis had nothing to say to that. He couldn't speak. Instead, he poured some more wine.

* * *

><p>When Arthur awoke the following morning, he realized that his head was pounding. Ah, so the hangover struck again. <em>How much wine did I drink last night?<em> He wondered, rubbing his poor head in an attempt to sooth the monster inside. A failed attempt. The headache just seemed to worsen as he opened his eyes to bright sunlight. He was still on the couch, where he had been sitting last night, tangled completely in a blanket. He tried sitting up to get a better look at his surroundings- W_as the wine put away? Has Francis left yet?- _but fell back with a groan. He just needed a few more minutes of rest before getting up.

However, he heard footsteps and Francis came out from his kitchen, holding a teacup. "Ah, you're awake!" he exclaimed. "After how much wine you drank last night, I'm surprised you aren't still trying to sleep it off."

Arthur placed a hand over his eyes, holding back another groan. "What are you still doing here, Francis? I never invited you to stay the night."

Francis laughed, placing the teacup down. "No, of course you didn't. You told me about Alfred's mother, though, and after a few more glasses of wine, started crying into my shoulder. Because of the state you were in, I thought it best to stay with you. Who the hell would leave some grown man alone in his house to wallow in his own tears?"

"Not you, apparently," Arthur muttered, happy that his hand was hiding the blush that was spreading across his face. Oh, Lord. He cried? In Francis' shoulder? The very thought made his stomach turn. "It was the wine," he stated, more to himself than to Francis, but the Frenchman nodded.

"Of course. You _did_ drink quite a lot. Though, I must say, you really do have no idea how to hold your liquor. Within the first hour of drinking, you were already sort of tipsy." He felt his hand being pulled off of his eyes, and a smiling Frenchman looked down at him. "Here. Drink some tea, that might help."

With some assistance from Francis, Arthur was able to sit up and take a few sips, eyes screwing up in pain as the headache seemed to rattle him. He quickly glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. 9:13. "Ugh, how long did we stay up?"

"Well, considering it took me forever to get you to stop sobbing and ruining one of my best shirts, I'd have to say that _you_ fell asleep sometime around one or two in the morning. I made a bed of your chair, which is highly uncomfortable, so it took me longer." Francis frowned and shook his head at Arthur's favorite chair. "You should probably buy a new one."

Arthur glared at him, taking another sip of the tea, which seemed to be working on his pain. "I happen to like that chair. Besides, if it was that uncomfortable, you could have just gone home. I wouldn't have complained."

Francis grinned as he stood. "Ah, but who would be here to make tea for you when you awoke? Besides, now I can ask what time Alfred needs to be picked up."

"Huh?"

"You don't think you're in the position to go out, do you?" Francis asked, shaking his finger. "_Non_, _monsieur_. You stay here and relax. I shall bring your son home to you."

Well, that proved that Francis could _sometimes_ be useful. Not much, mind you, but sometimes. "He should be picked up whenever. You can just go get him now, since you look ready." Francis grinned and was about to walk out the door, but Arthur stopped him. "Wait! Just...please don't tell him anything about last night."

"What, that you became heavily intoxicated and-"

"No, the bit about his mom." He looked down at his tea. "I couldn't bear it if he knew that he was never loved by her."

The Frenchman's expression softened. "Of course not," he murmured. Without another word, he walked out the door.

* * *

><p>Valentine's Day rolled around, and Alfred found himself nervous. He squirmed as he ate breakfast (burnt toast with a bowl of cereal- the toast lay there untouched by Alfred), wanting to just hurry it up and get everything over with. "Daddy, what if she doesn't like it? What if she laughs at me?"<p>

Arthur was only giving Alfred half of his attention. The other half was focused on paperwork that he had forgotten from being hungover. "Mm, I'm sure she'll love it, Alfred."

"Yeah, but, what if she doesn't?" Alfred poked at his toast. "I'll look like an idiot."

"Don't play with your food," Arthur scolded as he looked calmly at his son. "And, stop worrying, lad. Everything will be fine. If she doesn't like it, then she's the idiot." He reached over and ruffled his son's hair. "You made the best Valentine's Day card of your class, I'm sure, and she'll be a bloody wanker if she doesn't realize how special you are."

He earned himself a smile from Alfred, who began cheerfully eating his breakfast again. "Thanks, Dad. You know what? I tried getting Matthew to make one, 'cause he's got this crush, but he won't tell me who it is, and he was too shy to make a card, so I made it for him and maybe he'll give it to her. Then, we can both have a girlfriend! Wouldn't that be totally awesome, Dad?"

His father nodded, returning the smile. "It sure would. Just don't force Matthew to do anything he doesn't feel comfortable doing." Poor, innocent Matthew was so shy and so sweet, and Arthur honestly couldn't imagine his son's best friend giving a card to some girl he fancied. _No, if anything, Alfred will make him spit out his crush, and then my son will give it to whatever girl Matthew likes._ He sighed. Sometimes, he knew Matthew needed a friend like Alfred, but on some occasions, Alfred really needed to learn to let Matthew go at his own pace.

* * *

><p>Alfred nibbled on his cookie, waiting quite impatiently for the teacher to give the all-clear to pass out the cards. He glanced over at Matthew, who was adding a few finishing touches onto his. "Are you gonna give that to her?" Alfred asked his quiet friend.<p>

Matthew slowly nodded. "Yes," he replied. "I-I think I will."

Shooting him a grin, Alfred waved his cookie around. "Good! That way, we'll both have girlfriends!"

It was at that moment when the teacher stood at the front of the room. "Now, everyone, please start passing out your cards! Do so without running, and keep your voices down."

Alfred quickly gulped down the rest of his cookie and stood, grabbing the card he took so long to make. "Here I go!" he exclaimed, walking off.

"Good luck," Matthew's voice followed him, and Alfred realized that he'd need good luck. One boy had already laid his own card on Susan's desk, and the two were talking. _Oh, no!_ Alfred thought. _He can't have her! Susan's going to be MY girlfriend!_ And, so, he gently pushed the other kid aside and held out his card to Susan.

She stared at it with wide, green eyes. "What's this?"

"Uh, a Valentine's Day card," Alfred stammered, a pink blush spreading across his nose. "S-see, I even wrote a poem for you, and there's some chocolate taped to it, and-"

Susan took the card for him and looked it over. "_Roses are red, violets are blue, chocolate is __sweet, and so are you,_" she read. Alfred could have melted right then and there as the girls around her started to giggle. _I knew I should have put in my other poem! I knew it!_ But, his other poems all seemed dumb, and his mind kept coming back to this one. As it turned out, though, Susan seemed to think it was stupid.

"Well, see here, Alfred, you're not really my type."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Alfred asked, certain that his face was as red as a tomato now.

Susan took the chocolate off of the card. "I want a smart, rich boyfriend. You're kinda smart, but you have a lot of mistakes in spelling, and you don't have a nice enough car for me to date you." She stared at him, her green eyes somewhat serious. "Maybe, once you get a lot of money, I can date you."

Alfred didn't know what to say. He watched as Susan stuck the chocolate in her mouth. Her stupid, stupid chocolate. Alfred could feel the tears welling up, so he quickly turned and walked back to his desk. Matthew was sitting there, also looking down. "She didn't want my card," Matthew muttered.

"Susan didn't want mine, either," Alfred replied, burying his head into his arms. He just wanted to get this dumb day over with.

* * *

><p>"So, how did it go?" Arthur asked, watching Alfred climb into the front seat. His son sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Alfred, come on, look at me and answer."<p>

So, Alfred turned his eyes toward his father. Those sky-blue pearls were now filled with tears. "She says I have to get richer and smarter and get a nice car." His hands crossed over his chest, and now Arthur could tell that he was struggling to keep from crying.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry," Arthur said, coming to a stop light and looking at his son. "You know what, she's not worth it. If she doesn't recognize how awesome you are, then she really isn't worth anything."

His son nodded. "She ate my chocolate, too."

"What?"

"My chocolate. I taped chocolate to her card, and she ate the chocolate." Alfred frowned. "If she doesn't want to be my girlfriend, she doesn't deserve to eat my chocolate." He didn't catch the amused and relieved smile coming to his father's face. Instead, he began digging in his backpack. "Also, I brought something for you."

Arthur pulled into the driveway. "Really? For me?"

"Yep!" Alfred pulled out a slightly crumbled cookie, wrapped firmly in a napkin. "The teacher said we could each only have one, but I managed to get two, because I was good today." It was actually just because he was silent after the party, which was rather unusual for him. He didn't mention that, though- it just made him seem a lot more awesome to say that he was good.

With a grin, Arthur took the cookie. "That was sweet of you to bring it home to me." And surprising, actually. Alfred hardly ever let a good cookie get away from him.

Alfred reached over, seat belt tightening on his waist, and gave his father a hug. "Happy Valentine's Day, Daddy."

Arthur embraced him right back, making sure the cookie didn't get even more crushed than it already was. "Happy Valentine's Day, Alfred."

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><p><strong>Ah, so this turned out to be more...emotional than expected. I was going for cute Valentine's Day fluff, but, alas, the sob-story-author in me took over and changed it...<strong>

**Thanks so much for the reviews and favorites and stuff! It makes me as pleased as a pickle to know that people are reading my story! Keep on bringing in those reviews, and such! I'll try to reply to as much as I can.**

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><p><em><strong>KitakLaw<strong>_**: Aw, thanks! I've always loved writing cute stories :3**

**_PenguinWithWings_: First off, I love your name. And, yep, there will be more! I have ten other chapters of fluff planned out, haha :D**


	3. March

**Whoot, March is up! I do not own Hetalia, yo.**

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><p>"Daddy?"<p>

"Hm? What is it, Alfred?" Arthur Kirkland asked, looking up from his book and over at his son. Alfred, who was supposed to be finishing his homework, was sitting at the dining room table, an empty worksheet laying in front of him. Arthur gave a slight sigh. "You're supposed to be doing your homework, love."

Alfred scrunched up his nose. "It's too hard."

Arthur smiled. "Nonsense, Alfred. You just told me you knew how to do all of this."

"Duh," the boy retorted. "That's what kids are supposed to do; say stuff they know their parents want to hear."

Arthur raised his large eyebrows. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Yeah. But, I really, _really_ don't get this!" He grabbed his homework and made his way to his father, who was sitting at the other side of the table. Arthur marked his page with his bookmark (one Alfred made for him when the child was in first grade, actually) and glanced over at the worksheet. "It's fractions, Dad, and it's impossible!"

The Briton laughed. "It's not impossible, Alfred- you're just not trying hard enough." He took Alfred and set the boy on his lap, then faced the 'impossible' homework. "Now, look, son- all you do is add the top numbers together. See, what's 3+4?"

Alfred stuck his tongue out in concentration. "Uh, is it 7?"

"Great! Now, what do you do with the bottom number, that 10?"

Grabbing the pencil, Alfred carefully wrote a 7 as he thought about his father's question. "D-Do you add those two 10's together?"

"No. Come on, Alfred, think."

Of course, Alfred figured that thinking it through was just much too difficult. "I don't get it!"

Arthur sighed again, though he still kept a calm smile etched upon his face. "Watch what I do, okay?" He took the pencil from Alfred and drew two circles on the back of the worksheet. Each was divided into tenths, but he colored three parts of one and four parts of another. "Pretend these are two pieces of pie."

"What type?"

"Is that really important?"

Alfred gave him a serious stare. "Dad, you know I don't like pecan pie. So, it can't be pecan. I also don't like your meat pie."

The older man gave a chuckle, ruffling Alfred's dirty-blond hair. "Silly boy, I make a most delicious meat pie!" Alfred laughed with him. "Okay, how about we make it a chocolate pie, then?"

The grin on the boy's face was dazzling, Arthur noted. "Yeah! Chocolate pie!"

With that decided, Arthur pointed to the two circles on the paper. "Back to business, now. Okay, Alfred, you already said you'd get seven slices of pie, correct?" Alfred nodded in confirmation. "However, since we had ten to begin with on both, how much will we get at the end?"

He realized he explained it wrong when Alfred counted out every piece. "20!"

_Dang, teaching is really much harder than I figured it would be._ "W-Wait, I'm just confusing you." Arthur quickly erased one of the circles, and the shadings in the leftover. "Let's forget what I was doing. So, here we have a circle with ten slices of pie-"

"Chocolate pie."

"Yes, chocolate pie. You're going to be eating three and I'll be eating four, okay?"

"Hey, how come you get more pieces than I do?"

Arthur's shoulders sagged. "You can have four then." Ignoring Alfred's 'yippee' of joy, Arthur continued. "So, Alfred, shade in the three pieces of pie for me and the four for you." Once Alfred finished this task, Arthur said, "There. Seven slices between us. How many slices are there, though, in all?"

"Ten," Alfred responded, almost instantly.

Arthur nodded. "Yes. Because we're adding the fractions, the bottom number will stay the same."

Alfred looked as if Arthur's rather awful explanation cleared a few things up. "Oh! So, it'd be 7/10?"

For his correct answer, he received a quick kiss to the cheek. "Excellent job, lad! Now, continue working on it while I make us something for dinner."

As he walked into the kitchen, he heard Alfred yell, "No meat pie, please!"

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><p>Later that week, Alfred came home with a gold star on his hand and announced that he'd been on his best behavior and did all of his homework. Seeing the young boy so happy filled Arthur with joy, so he celebrated this small event by driving Alfred down to the park.<p>

His little jitterbug could barely stand still. "You're _really_ gonna buy me some ice cream later on?" he asked, grabbing his father's hand as they walked down a trail.

"Most certainly," Arthur responded with a grin. "You deserve it, Alfred. I saw that you received pretty good grades on all of your assignments."

"Yep! Fractions aren't _that_ hard, are they?"

Deciding to omit the fact that they were impossible to teach, Arthur agreed. "Of course not." He also left out the little _'I told you so'_ and opted on another smile. "You're a quick learner, though. I was surprised."

Alfred giggled. "It's 'cause I'm so smart!" he exclaimed. A soft breeze came around and Alfred stuck his hands in the pockets of his light jacket, scooting closer to his father. "Look at all of the leaves!" he pointed out, staring up at the trees.

Arthur followed suit. "Yes, they are growing back quite beautifully, aren't they?" He, too, always loved watching the winter melt away into spring, and he was overjoyed that Alfred seemed to share the same enthusiasm for nature. "Soon, all of the trees in our yard will be filled with leaves again, right?"

With a sigh of relief, Alfred responded, "As long as they don't fall back down. I hate raking up those leaves."

"Well, sometimes it just has to be done," Arthur replied, chuckling. "You're very good with yard work, Alfred, so why do you complain?"

"Because it was cold!" Alfred gave his father a pout. "I hate the cold."

"You like snow perfectly fine."

"That's different."

Arthur wasn't quite sure how exactly it was different, but he decided not to push it. Alfred's way of thinking had already proved to be quite odd and random some of the times, so Arthur never really pushed it. Besides, most children had some very strange thoughts that never made any sense whatsoever. Might as well let it go until they matured enough to have realistic thoughts. "Oh, okay," was all he said.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. "Hey, Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you know that Saint Patrick's Day is on Monday?"

"I did."

"Can I wear green to school? If I don't, all of the other kids will tackle me and pinch me." He frowned. "I don't wanna be pinched."

Arthur took Alfred's hand in his own. "Now, now, Alfred, no one will pinch you if you don't wear green."

"They will, too!" Alfred argued. "Lovino told me! He said that everyone gets pinched if they don't wear green!"

Sighing, Arthur answered, "Alfred, Lovino is just trying to mess with you. He's done this before, remember?" Alfred gave a small nod- Lovino had always been somewhat of a bully to him. "But, yes, of course you may wear green."

This put Alfred's worries at ease. "Really? Phew, that way I won't be pinched! But, I need to wear a lot of green, just to be sure I'm safe. Do we have any green pants?"

"We might."

"Okay, I need some of those. And, I already have a shirt that's green. Ooh, Daddy, can we stop by the store and grab a green hat! That way, no one will pinch my face 'cause then I'll have green up there, too! And, I also need some socks-"

The older man rolled his eyes. "Alfred, you do not need to wear all of that green."

"Daddy!"

"We'll go buy you a hat and look for some pants, but that's all I'm going to buy, understand?"

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. "Thanks, Dad! You're the best!"

"I know," Arthur teased, giving his son a small tickle as they exited the forest. "Now, how about you go play on the playground some?"

"Okay!" Alfred yelled with glee, running quickly toward the swings.

Arthur chose a spot to sit where he could keep an eye on Alfred, but wasn't especially pleased when an albino man sat down next to him. "Yo, Artie, my man!"

"Hello to you, too, Gilbert," Arthur responded coldly.

Gilbert was a constant customer to the bookstore which Arthur owned. He was always messing around, and just loved bringing in stacks of journals he had apparently written to ask if he could sell them. Quite honestly, Arthur wondered who the hell would buy such crap, but he had to be polite to his customer, so he usually just responded with a clear 'no'.

Arthur was certain Gilbert just liked annoying him on a daily basis. _Quite like a certain Frenchman_, the Briton thought, wondering if the two of them were somehow devising a plan to get on Arthur's last nerves.

"Ah, I see young Alfred is running out and about as usual, being quite the little Energizer Bunny."

"Obviously."

"Man, you really ought to lighten up some!" Gilbert laughed and leaned back against the bench they were sharing. "You should be more like me!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "A crazy lunatic who enjoys nothing more than getting drunk and acting like a complete bonehead?"

"Harsh," Gilbert commented. "I was going to say a relaxed, happy man!"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur replied. "I'm quite relaxed and happy, thank you very much."

He could feel those odd, red eyes studying him. "Francis was right- you are pretty tense."

_Ah, so he IS in league with Francis. Bloody wanker._ "What are you even doing here?"

Gilbert shot him a grin. "Parents went out of town, so I'm babysitting precious little Ludwig here." He pointed over to his little brother, who was slowly swinging, looking quite mature for his age, as compared to Gilbert. "Hey, isn't he in the same class with Alfred?"

Arthur nodded. "I believe they are."

"Awesome!" Gilbert laughed, though Arthur honestly didn't see what was so 'awesome' or funny about it. Really, sometimes Gilbert was just too much to understand. "Man, they're cute, aren't they?" Arthur agreed and Gilbert continued. "Back when I was a kid, I was also quite adorable! My parents loved me, and when I moved out, my mom cried for days and days." He smirked. "I guess they just weren't prepared to let such cuteness leave. But, I had to explore the world!"

"I'm certain that most parents would become upset when their child wishes to leave," Arthur muttered, feeling a headache coming on. "It's not just you."

"Boy, you're really scared to admit that I'm freaking adorable. C'mon, Artie, you know you love all of this!" He gestured to himself, and Arthur just narrowed his eyes.

"Believe it or not, Gilbert, I'm not all that interested in you."

The albino just laughed some more. _Seriously, _Arthur thought. _Why in the world is he laughing?_ "Don't deny it, don't deny it, Arthur!"

Arthur merely gave a groan. "You're the sole definition of annoying."

"And awesome. I'm sure if you look in the dictionary at the word 'awesome', it'll say 'Gilbert'."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure it just depends on what dictionary you're using!"

With a sigh, Arthur sat back. "I use the Webster dictionary, and it says nothing about Gilbert being awesome."

Gilbert shook his head. "That's because you're using the wrong one."

"Webster's dictionary is now wrong?"

"Yeah!" Gilbert folded his arms behind his head and grinned. "I use Urban Dictionary."

Arthur smiled coldly. "That, Gilbert, is filled with user-submitted definitions, meaning it can't be true. Almost like Wikipedia."

"Dude, Wikipedia is _legit_!"

Such arguments went on for nearly another hour before Alfred came running up to Arthur, out of breath but grinning. "Daddy, I'm ready for some ice cream now!"

Gilbert shot out of his seat. "Ice cream! Can I come?"

"No!" Arthur snapped to the other man. To Alfred, he said, "Okay, let's go." They walked off, ignoring as Gilbert made loud cries of protests, most of which included the phrase, "Artie, stop ignoring me!"

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><p>The ice cream shop was slightly empty, which eased Arthur's growing headache just a little bit. However, he was getting irritated when he realized how long it was taking for Alfred to choose the flavor he wanted. "Why not just get chocolate like you normally do?"<p>

Alfred sighed. "Daddy, I like trying new stuff." Finally, he pointed the the green-mint ice cream. "That one, please!"

They sat down together, Arthur slowly eating his bowl of vanilla and Alfred licking his own mint ice cream. "Since when do you like mint?"

"Since now!" Alfred shot back. "Hey, do you think I'd be safer from pinches if I smeared this all over my face?"

Arthur groaned. "Oh, _please_ don't do that, Alfred! It won't help at all- it'll just make your face sticky." Frankly, Arthur wasn't in the mood to clean up one of Alfred's messes.

The young boy just giggled. "I wasn't going to, don't worry, Dad. I don't wanna have a green face, anyway. It'll make me look too much like a frog." He grinned. "You don't want a frog for a son, do you?"

"I don't know. He'd be a lot less noisy, for one."

Alfred stuck out his tongue. "I'm not _that_ noisy."

"I beg to differ."

"No, no, frogs are noisier! They go RIBBIT! RIBBIT! RIBBIT!" He imitated a frog the best he could, earning glances from the others around them. Usually, Arthur would have scolded his son and told him to quiet down, but he now just gave a soft smile.

"That is true. But, they don't talk and ask silly questions."

"My questions are not silly!" Alfred exclaimed. He earned himself a poke to the forehead.

"Okay, your questions may not be silly, but you most certainly are."

Alfred gave another giggle. "That's why you like me, isn't it?"

"Mm, I guess it's _one_ of the reasons." Arthur leaned over and took a lick from Alfred's ice cream. "Hey, that's really good. Here, why don't you let me finish the rest?"

Alfred quickly pushed him back. "Oh, no, Daddy! You eat your nasty vanilla. This is mine!"

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><p><strong>Freaking fluff galore! See, my last story was kinda angsty, so I just wanted to make a plain cute one. <strong>**I didn't add as much on St. Patty's Day as I originally planned, and I REALLY wasn't expecting Gilbert to pop up (I just write- I don't think), but whatever. Please enjoy and review!**


	4. April

**Disclaimer: I am a rabid fangirl who is currently trying to steal Hetalia but, alas, to no avail- I still do not own it.**

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><p>Easter was always a time that Alfred looked forward to. He didn't know exactly what he enjoyed more- painting the eggs or waking up on Easter morning to find small gifts and chocolate laying out on his desk. Arthur told him it was the Easter bunny, and Alfred typically believed him (although he was beginning to wonder about such things like the Easter bunny and Santa Claus and such magical beings). In all honesty, though, he never quite cared where these gifts came from so long as he received them.<p>

Arthur was never the religious type, so they didn't attend church on those Easter mornings. Alfred remembered going once with one of his friends, but he didn't enjoy it all that much. Too boring, he had thought, and his attention kept wondering. He liked staying at home with his dad on those mornings, helping prepare food for the lunch that one of Arthur's friends, Antonio, always invited them to. It was usually fun, though Alfred could do without the constant bickering he got into with Lovino, one of Antonio's sons. At least Feliciano, Lovino's younger brother, was nice and fun.

So, whenever this time rolled around, he always looked forward to it.

Which is why, of course, it was canceled. Or so Alfred believed.

"But _why_?" he whined when his father first told him that they wouldn't be going over to Antonio's place. "We always go!"

Arthur sighed. "Yes, Alfred, I know, but Antonio has to travel over to Spain. His grandfather passed away and he's going to attend the funeral."

The young boy put on a frown. "What about Feli and Lovi?"

"They're going to. I'm so sorry, my love- we'll just have to make our own Easter lunch this year." The Briton ruffled Alfred's hair, lingering on that one cowlick that he could never manage to get rid of. "You can help me. Does that sound okay?'

Knowing he wasn't going to get his way this time, Alfred slowly gave a nod, though he didn't meet his father's green eyes. "Fine."

_Well, I was hoping for a better response, but at least he isn't throwing a fit._ "That's the spirit. Now, I was thinking about buying a ham from the store. Would you like to help me pick out what else we should eat?"

Alfred's face lit up slightly. "Can we have chocolate bunnies?"

"After you finish the meal, of course," Arthur replied with a smile. "But, we need healthy ingredients."

"Bleh." Alfred stuck his tongue out, causing a laugh from his father. "Just so long as you don't burn it, Daddy."

This is the reason, two days before Easter, he found himself roaming the isles of the grocery store, scanning desperately for the supplies he needed to make the perfect lunch for two. He wasn't having much luck at all, for not only were most of the food items already taken, but the one's that weren't seemed rather cheap. Not that he minded paying less, but he was slightly worried about how it would affect the quality of his cooking. Alfred wouldn't be able to tell, but still- this lunch had to be perfect.

He knew it wouldn't be perfect, though, when he ran into a certain Frenchman near the rolls. "Oh, well if it isn't Arthur Kirkland!" Francis smiled at him. "_Bonjour_, Arthur."

It had to be Francis, out of all the people in the world. Just his luck. "Hello to you, too, Francis," Arthur replied, trying to be civil as he looked over at the rolls. "What are you doing here?"

Francis sighed. "Oh, I don't know, just searching for furniture."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply that this was most certainly _not_ a furniture store, but he then noticed Francis' smirk. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm."

"_Oui_, but you asked such a _ridicule_ question, Arthur. If I'm in a grocery store, I'm most likely shopping for food."

Unable to think of anything else to say, Arthur just shot his neighbor a glare, then went back to staring intently at the many different brands of rolls. When silence fell, Francis pointed to a package. "I'd chose those if I were you."

"Giving me shopping advice, Francis?" Arthur snapped, grabbing a different bag of rolls. "I don't need it. I can decide for myself."

The Frenchman shrugged. "True. I shouldn't be deciding your shopping list for you." He gave a charming smile. "Someone has a birthday tomorrow, _non_?"

"Tomorrow?" Arthur blinked, then realized it was the 23rd of April. _Bloody hell, I nearly forgot, _he thought. "Oh, I suppose I do."

"You suppose?" Francis widened his blue eyes. "_Monsieur_, are you meaning to tell me that you forgot when your own birthday was?'

Turning red in the face, Arthur sputtered, "I didn't forget, you frog! I just chose not to, uh, remember!"

"Mm. _Oui_, that must be it." The Frenchman let out a small chuckle, ignoring the glare that Arthur was now sending his way. "Anyway, Arthur, what are you and little Alfred doing for Easter this year?"

Arthur shrugged. "We'll just have a normal Easter lunch, I guess. Why? It's not an incredibly big deal."

"Perhaps not to you, dear Arthur, but it might be important to others," Francis argued.

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur asked, "What about you, then? What do you do on Easter?"

"Well, I always wake up early to attend mass, and I bring along some food, of course. We then release the children out into a field to hunt for the eggs." Francis smiled. "You should really join us this year, Arthur, since you seem to have nothing better to do."

However, Arthur quickly replied with a sharp shake of his head. "No. One, I'm not Catholic and two, Alfred hates going to church, mass, whatever it is you call it."

"Suit yourself," Francis replied, not looking offended in the least. If anything, he looked rather amused at Arthur's instant refusal. "Tell the little rascal I said hello. Or, maybe I'll just stop by for your birthday tomorrow."

"I'd rather you not," Arthur mumbled, but, as usual, Francis ignored his comment.

"Until later, then. _Au revoir_!" And, with that, he left, giving his charming smile to some random lady (typical Francis). Arthur stood there for a few seconds, waiting until he left the aisle. Once out of sight, the irritated man placed his current choice of rolls back on the shelf and grabbed the ones Francis had suggested.

"Bloody git," were the only words that Arthur muttered to himself, his cheeks still red. There was something about the Frenchman that always riled him up. However, he had a skill with food, so maybe it wouldn't be too bad of an idea to try these rolls.

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><p>The next day, Saturday, proved to be interesting. Arthur, looking forward to sleeping in, was rudely awoken by his cell phone. He groggily picked his head up from the pillow and made a blind grab for the phone. Unfortunately, he missed and knocked everything off of his bedside table. With a few curses, he quickly opened his cell, not bothering to check who was even calling at this hour. "What? Who is this?"<p>

"Man, Artie, you sound rather tired- you feeling okay?" came the snickering voice of his brother, Camden.

Duh. Of course Camden would call at this time. "You wanker, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah, it's actually ten."

"Maybe over in England, but not here." Arthur sighed, slowly sitting up in his bed, wishing he could strangle his annoying brother. "What do you want?"

Another voice cut into their conversation- obviously, Camden had gathered up the entire family. "Hey, hey, Arthur! How is your morning?"

Refusing to answer that, Arthur dryly greeted his other brothers. "Hello, Jacob. And, do I also hear Noah?"

"Loud and clear!"

"How about Peter?"

"I'm here, too!" came the reply from the youngest member of the Kirkland family (Alfred aside). "Happy birthday!"

Arthur groaned. "Thanks for reminding me."

"How old are you, Artie? Wasn't it 28?"

"No, I was sure he was turning 29."

"Are you positive? I could imagine him as 30."

Feeling now would be a good time to cut in, Arthur muttered, "Noah was right- I'm 28. Please stop discussing it. May I be excused to go back to sleep?"

"No, no you may not!" Camden exclaimed. "We, my dear brother, wish to sing a happy birthday- no, Peter, not yet."

"Aw, but I have a show to watch in a few minutes. I'd really like to hurry and finish this!"

"Yeah, how come we have to sing happy birthday to Artie, anyway? It's not like he ever sings it to us."

"That's just because Arthur can't sing unless he's drunk. And, even then, it's awful."

"Well, of course. Drunk people can't sing. And, yes, Camden, I am referring to you."

"Hey, I resent that! I can sing pretty damn good, I'll have you know."

"My God, you cannot! You sound like some sort of dying animal."

Now his ears were just hurting. Arthur lay back down, still listening, wondering when they were ever going to get to the point.

"Guys, come on, the show starts real shortly!"

"Aw, shut it, Peter. You can watch reruns of whatever it is later."

"That's unfair, you always boss me around!"

"It's because you're such a shrimp, that's why."

"Camden, tell him to stop!"

"Actually, I'm rather enjoying this banter. Aren't you, Noah?"

"Yes, all we need is a bowl of popcorn, and this will be absolutely perfect. Quite like a movie, actually."

"Nice. What shall this movie be called?"

"Well, I was thinking-"

"Shouldn't we be singing now?"

"Oh. Yeah."

And, so, the brothers cleared the throats, sang a wonderfully out-of-tune version of 'Happy Birthday to You', and waited for the reply. However, they received none, for Arthur had fallen back asleep sometime during their bickering, phone now resting comfortably in his hand, all words coming from it unnoticed by the blond-haired man.

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><p>When Arthur woke up for the second time, he plugged his phone into the wall to charge and made his way to the kitchen, where he found Alfred buttering toast. The smell of tea drifted into the air and Arthur looked on, interested. "What's all this?"<p>

Alfred spun around from his preparations. "Dad, you're not supposed to be up yet! I was going to serve you breakfast in bed!"

"Were you?"

"Yeah. I was." Alfred pouted. "Next time, you need to stay in your bed."

Arthur smiled and kissed his son's cheek. "Sorry, sorry. But, since I'm up, we can eat at the table, can we not?"

"Well..." Alfred thought this over and nodded. "Okay. But, lemme finish my awesome toast and I'll bring it to you in there, okay, Daddy?"

"Okay," Arthur replied and followed Alfred's instructions, sitting at his usual spot at the table and waiting until the young, blond-haired boy came carefully, holding Arthur's perfectly golden toast and a cup of tea.

"Here!" said Alfred, setting the breakfast on the table. "Sorry it's not in bed."

"No, no, it's quite all right," Arthur assured, watching as Alfred poured himself a bowl of Coco Puffs. "Thank you very much for making this for me, Alfred."

With a grin, his son replied, "No problem, Dad! It's your birthday, right?"

"Yes. I'm pleased you remembered." Arthur began eating his toast, wondering how on earth Alfred didn't burn it. He was sure everyone burned toast. Well, he knew he burnt it all the time, but that was besides the point. Toast burnt quickly and easily, yes?

He didn't really have much time to ponder this, though, for Alfred quickly broke into his thoughts. "Francis called and said he's coming over later with a surprise!"

"What sort of surprise?"

"If I tell you it won't be a surprise," Alfred pointed out.

Arthur shrugged. "Oh, well, worth a try."

They ate in silence for a few more minutes before, again, Alfred had to say something. "It's a cake!"

Arthur raised his impressive eyebrows. "I thought it was a surprise."

With a sheepish grin, Alfred responded. "You would have figured it out, anyway. Plus, now you won't be left guessing!"

Goodness knows that was a good thing. Arthur could only imagine what other things the perverted Frenchman might have brought in. The mere thought made him shudder, so he busied himself by returning to his breakfast. "We're going to have to wake up early tomorrow, Alfred, to start cooking our Easter lunch. Is that okay?"

Alfred looked more than excited at that. "Yeah! It'll be fun!"

"Yes, I do believe it will be."

The two enjoyed their breakfast and time together. And, when Francis came, they all enjoyed cake and milk and laughing and joking (more so Francis and Alfred- Arthur was still under the impression that he hated Francis but it was more like he _loved_ to hate Francis- there really wasn't much hatred, just mild irritation). Still, despite the lack of guests (which, actually, didn't distress the Briton too much), his 28th birthday was a special one, just like all of the past birthdays and all the birthdays to come.

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><p><strong>Oh my freaking unicorns. This has officially been the worst thing I've ever written. "But, Bob, why you postin' it up?" You know why, cause I'm too tired to write anything else. See, I'm just the worst (well, it is one in the morning...ahem). Anyway, enjoy the crap above you. Or, I hope you enjoyed the crap. Which, I know you didn't, 'cause it's crap.<strong>

**(Seriously, why didn't I add their Easter lunch? Oh, I'm horrible.)**

**Camden is Scotland, Jacob is Ireland, Noah is Wales, and Peter is Sealand. I think that's the order. I dunno, I kinda got mixed up in their stupid dialogue.  
><strong>

**Anyway, review and tell me how dumb I am.** **Thanks :D (psst- Happy Thanksgiving! Yesterday, I mean, since it's now Friday.)**


	5. May

**Disclaimer: I'm no artist, so I assume Hetalia doesn't belong to me.**

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><p>It was really hard, he had long since found out, to say no to Alfred. He really didn't like the idea of spoiling his young son, but when Alfred begged for something, the kid made certain to put on the sweetest face he could muster and make Arthur feel quite guilty even thinking about saying no. And today was no different. Here they were in this position again, Alfred pleading with his father while the Briton sighed and somehow managed to stare down at his son without instantly giving in.<p>

"Please, Dad?" he heard the boy say. "Please, please, please? I'll never ask for anything ever again! Ever!"

Which, of course, was a lie, the exact same lie Alfred used any time he wanted something. All children might use it at some point in their lives, but for Alfred, it was the most valid arrangement he could hope for. Personally, Arthur believed that he himself used to use it, although it wasn't to the extent that Alfred used it. "Alfred, sweetheart, I've told you, I have work to finish this weekend, and-"

"No, we'll be _real_ quiet, 'kay? I mean, Mattie never talks much anyway, so we promise not to bug you!"

This was true. Matthew was typically silent, something that Arthur saw as a blessing. Whenever Matthew came for a sleepover, he won Arthur's heart over with his quiet and polite attitude. Sometimes, the young Briton wished that Alfred would act the same.

Then again, Alfred wouldn't be Alfred without the...well, Alfred-ness.

"Okay, okay, fine," Arthur sighed, finally giving in. "He can come over tomorrow night."

Alfred looked about ready to explode from happiness. "Really, Dad? Thanks a lot! We'll be quiet, I promise it! Oh, and can you buy us chips and stuff? Ooh, and soda, but I don't know if Mattie likes soda. He likes pancakes, though, so buy some of that with lots of syrup. I like pancakes, too, so buy enough for me, 'kay?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Arthur gave another sigh. Sleepovers were sometimes a pain. The end result- two sweet and happy boys- was certainly worth the trouble, though.

* * *

><p>The sleepover was awaited with open arms by both Alfred and Arthur, though the latter was less likely to admit it to anyone other than himself. Really, he enjoyed having Matthew over. The kid never turned down his scones- rather, he forced them down, and Arthur could see that. Why he kept making them was a mystery, since he <em>knew<em> Matthew probably wasn't too fond of them.

He was just prideful, that was all.

Arthur corresponded with Matthew's mother who, in all honesty, seemed like she could care less where her child was. This slightly pained Arthur, for Matthew was such an amazing child and really didn't deserve to be treated in such a way. But, it wasn't exactly his place to start an argument, so he did his best to act refined before hanging up and going on a rant, which lasted most of the night and left him cranky the next morning.

Which, of course, he put aside for the two boys.

After school that Friday, both Alfred and Matthew scrambled into Arthur's car. "How was school?" This was a usual question from the man, and it didn't change now that Matthew was with them.

"Awesome!" Alfred replied, which was his answer to just about anything. "I didn't get my card changed to red today!"

This was good news. Alfred wasn't a bad child, he was just loud and talkative. Loud and talkative children were the ones who got their cards changed, or so Alfred had said. "That's great. What about you, Matthew?"

The boy cracked a small smile. "I-It was fine, thank you Mr. Kirkland."

"No need to be so formal, lad. Just call me Arthur."

Matthew blushed. "Okay Mr. Kirk- ah, A-Arthur." He was clearly embarrassed to be on such casual terms with his best friend's father. Hopefully he would soon lose the blush he always had around others.

Alfred, already tired of the conversation, decided to turn everything back to him. "I ate all of my lunch today, and so Mattie gave me a cookie."

"Gave?" Arthur raised one of his impressive eyebrows. "Did he really, or are you just fibbing?"

With a groan, Alfred answered, "He really did give it to me! He said he packed two, one for him and one for me!"

"Is that true?" Arthur pried deeper into the situation, knowing Alfred had been twice caught for stealing the food of other children.

Matthew confirmed Alfred's story with a nod. "It was a thank-you for letting me come today." He suddenly seemed to realize something. "I should have packed one for you, Mr- um, Arthur! I'm sorry!"

Arthur chuckled. "Don't be. Just having you over is nice enough." He was pleased to see Matthew smile when he glanced in the rear view mirror. "So, what are you boys planning on doing tonight?"

Alfred took over the conversation again. "We're gonna stay up _all_ night and not go to sleep at all! Right, Mattie?"

"Right."

"We're gonna play with my lightsabers and guns and stuff, and then we're gonna play video games, and then we're gonna watch a movie and eat popcorn and candy and stuff."

"Oh. Sounds like quite the plan."

"It is! And you, Dad, have to cook our pancakes for us in the morning. Just don't burn them, okay?"

Arthur frowned, though it was more for show than actually irritation. "I don't burn pancakes."

He heard a whisper in the backseat of, "He does, Mattie, so we're gonna hafta watch over him to make sure he doesn't, 'kay?"

"'kay."

Well, good to know that now Alfred was bringing Matthew up to be a spy. Maybe his son was good influence on the quiet boy, though. Maybe Matthew just needed a little racket in his life.

* * *

><p>Alfred was a very unorganized lad. His plan for the sleepover didn't exactly go as...planned. For starters, he found something cooler to do with Matthew. "Dad, Dad, Francis is back from the lake! Can we please go play in his boat?"<p>

Matthew looked confused, so Arthur explained. "Our neighbor has a boat that he keeps in his driveway, and Alfred likes to pretend he's a pirate." This seemed to excite the other boy, for his eyes also lit up. To Alfred, Arthur simply said, "Let's go ask Francis first, shall we?"

They both knew that Francis would say yes. The Frenchman was extremely easy-going and never turned down a request from Alfred.

So, off to Francis' it was, with Arthur lagging behind and wishing that his somewhat-nemesis was still off boating or whatever it was he was doing with Gilbert and Antonio. But, no, Francis seemed to always manage to worm his way into Arthur's life.

"Francis, can we please play pirate in your boat?" Alfred asked once Francis opened the door. This made Arthur sigh. The boy could at least show some sort of politeness toward others, even if this 'other' was the most annoying person living on the planet.

Francis didn't seem to mind the lack of manners, though. "_Bien sûr_. Wait, who is this you have with you, Alfred?"

"Oh, this is my friend, Matthew. We're having a sleepover today!"

With a grin, Francis replied, "Pleased to meet you, Matthieu. I've heard so much about you from Alfred, here."

Unused to such attention (what Arthur believed to be the case, anyway), Matthew burned a deep color of crimson. "N-Nice to meet you, too, Mr...uh..."

"Francis Bonnefoy, but please call me Francis."

He was getting a lot of this lately. "Oh. Pleased to meet you, Francis." It came easier with Francis, probably because he wasn't part of Alfred's family.

"C'mon, Mattie, let's go play!" Alfred whined, getting impatient. He grabbed his friend's hand and raced off to the boat, leaving Arthur standing uncomfortably with his neighbor.

After a few seconds of silence, Arthur cleared his throat. "So, how was the lake?"

"_Magnifique_, Arthur. I still don't see why you wouldn't come along. We invited you, after all."

"Yes, but I'd really rather not spend more time with you nor Gilbert than absolutely necessary."

"Mm, you're a stingy one, Arthur," Francis replied, still wearing that stupid smile. "We really had a fun time. Antonio nearly fell into the lake."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, that sometimes happens when three idiots go off boating."

Francis nudged him. "I thought you liked Antonio."

"I don't mind him, that's for sure, but when he's around you and Gilbert, you guys turn into the most awful trio ever. So, he's fine when it's just him."

"How about me? Am I fine when I'm just myself."

"You, Francis, are a damn frog and will always remain a damn frog." With that being said, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall go prepare a supper for the boys."

He walked back over to his house, and Francis called after him, "Mind you don't burn your house down!"

As a reply, he was given the finger.

* * *

><p>"Look out, Cap'n Mattie, there's a shark up ahead!"<p>

"I got it, Captain Alfred!" Matthew ran across the boat, pretending to fire a gun. "There, he shouldn't bother us any longer."

"Great work!" Alfred stood at the 'steering wheel' of the boat, since he said that's where heroes should go. Matthew hadn't really objected- he was still slightly worried that maybe Francis left his key in the ignition and if they set it off, the boat could blow up. Or, something along those lines, he wasn't really sure. Sometimes, though, accidents happened, and he really didn't want to cause any sort of damage to this beautiful boat.

Alfred had tried assuring him that such things wouldn't happen and that, even if it did, Francis wouldn't be _too_ angry, but Matthew wasn't sure whether or not to trust Alfred. His best friend was accident-prone. "Pirates are comin', Cap'n Mattie! Be on the lookout!"

Matthew gave him a salute, trying to act just like a sailor. "Aye aye, Captain Alfred!"

He received a pout. "You don't salute me, Mattie, 'cause we're both captains on this ship, and captains don't salute each other!"

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Matthew busied himself by getting ready for the pirate attack and brandishing his sword (which was actually just a long stick Alfred found in Francis' backyard). "Um, when are the pirates coming?"

"Right now. Let's get 'em, Mattie! I mean, Cap'n Mattie!" Alfred, too, grabbed his sword (stick) and began fighting invisible enemies that were climbing up over the sides of their precious ship, which Alfred had dubbed 'The America'. Matthew didn't complain much with that, for he honestly didn't understand why ships needed names. But, Alfred had told him that it was absolutely necessary if they wanted this game to be real, so, whatever.

Matthew followed suit and also began fighting air, at first feeling a tad silly, but then really getting into it. "One's behind you, Captain Alfred!"

Alfred suddenly acted as if he was stabbed. "Ugh, he got me!"

"No, I'll save you!" Matthew killed the invisible enemy and turned to his friend. "Are you okay?"

"I...I'm dying," Alfred whispered, falling to the ground. "Tell my father...I loved him."

And, there you have it, Matthew was now the sole captain of the ship. Really, it seemed like too big of a responsibility for him, so he poked his 'dead' friend. "Alfred? I don't think I can run a ship by myself."

Alfred peeked up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then, use the magic potion that the mermaids gave you to bring me back to life."

"What mermaids?"

"_Matthew!_"

"Okay, okay." Matthew grabbed a leaf. "Here, Captain Alfred- Life Potion!"

Alfred took the life potion in his hands (which confused Matthew, for wasn't Alfred dead?) and pretended to eat it. "Thanks, Cap'n Mattie! I thought I was a goner!"

Matthew smiled. "It was no problem, Captain Alfred. I'm just glad you're not really dead."

The more rambunctious of the two sat up, a curious expression on his face. "Mattie? What would you do if I really _did_ die?"

He blinked. Alfred wasn't usually this serious. Matthew sat down next to his friend and shrugged. "I'd be sad."

Alfred scratched his cheek. "I'd be sad if you died, too. Hey, if I ever die, can you make sure my dad's okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he probably has attachment issues, so I don't want him being upset. Maybe you can go and live with him and be his son." Alfred smiled at his friend, his sky-blue eyes crinkling at the edges. "Is that okay?"

With a nod, Matthew agreed to this plan. He had taken a liking to Arthur Kirkland, and really didn't want to see the man upset. "Yes."

"Want me to do the same with your parents?"

In all honesty, Matthew didn't know whether or not his parents would be saddened. "I don't know. Sometimes my mom doesn't...well, she's not really, uh..." There wasn't much of a way to explain exactly what it was that was wrong with his mother. "She just isn't the type to cry."

Alfred cocked his head. "Of course she is. She loves you."

This wasn't a topic Matthew was very comfortable in speaking about, though, so he quickly changed the subject. "Aren't the pirates still here?"

"You're right!" Alfred jumped to his feet and grabbed his stick once more. "C'mon, Mattie, we gotta kill them off!"

Surprised about Alfred's lack of focus, but relieved nonetheless, Matthew also stood. "Right."

Unbeknownst to the two boys, this entire conversation was heard by a certain Frenchman, who sat near an open window, a forgotten book left on his lap.

* * *

><p><strong>The evil Plot Bunny manage to worm his way into my story, so it's sorta gaining a plot. I really didn't mean for that to happen, sorry!<strong>

**I used to live next to this couple who had a boat in their driveway, and I would go up there with my brother and sister and we'd play pirates and sailors and such. Great fun, I highly suggest finding a boat and just chilling. Actually, I go to the mall with my best buddy and we typically just sit in the boats that they sell when we get tired of walking. /ramble/**

**Please review and love on me! I was hoping to get to December by Christmas (lol, wut?), but I'm currently updating at a snail's pace, so...I'll just create a separate Christmas one-shot or something. **


	6. June

**Yes, I have been absent for quite some time, haven't I? Well, first my computer broke and then other crap ensued and...yeah. Sorry for the wait!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia (and I really wish I could have a witty way of saying so, like every other person on this site).**

* * *

><p>"School's out!" Alfred yelled with glee as he climbed into the car, a large bag of what appeared to be his materials by his side. "Dad, Dad, school is <em>out<em>!"

Arthur winced, Alfred's loud voice piercing his eardrum. "Yes, yes, no need to screech like a monkey, though," he grumbled, pulling out of the school parking lot and onto the road. "Now, sit back and tell me how your last day was."

Alfred buckled up, his face shining with excitement. "Awesome! We got cookies and we all said goodbye to everyone and the teachers gave us a book."

"What book is it?" Arthur asked, though he was really paying more attention to the road right now.

"I dunno, I didn't check." Alfred shrugged. "Hey, Dad? Are we gonna take a trip this summer? Can we go to England and see all of my uncles?"

Arthur chuckled. "We'll see. I'm not planning on it, though. I'm not sure I have that sort of money to be wasting."

"Wasting?" Alfred snorted. "Dad! It's _England_! I wanna go see my uncles!"

"I'm certain you don't, actually. They're a rather odd bunch." Which was quite an understatement, actually, but Arthur didn't exactly feel like going into detail on how odd his brothers were. Alfred would become bored after a few minutes of Arthur's ranting.

The young boy just began whining. "No, no, they sound cool! You're always telling me stories about them, and I really wanna meet them!"

Well, this was just great. His son wanted to meet his insane brothers? How very much like Alfred. But, Arthur knew they probably wouldn't be able to. After all, plane tickets cost money and Arthur didn't have all that much that he could spare. "We'll see," he muttered, which at least shut Alfred up until they arrived home.

* * *

><p>When school was out, Alfred became very, <em>very<em> bored. By the fourth day, he was following his father around, complaining. "Dad, there's nothing to do!"

"Go clean, then," Arthur stated, checking his watch. "I have work in a few hours, Alfred, so do you mind if I call up a babysitter?"

Alfred's face turned up into a pout. "Yes, I do mind!" he exclaimed. "I'm not a baby, I'm old enough to look after myself, aren't I?"

The Englishman had to struggle to hold back a laugh. "Er, well, not exactly, lad." He picked up his phone. "Now, how does Francis sound?"

Face instantly brightening, Alfred nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah! Can I go over to his house? Please?"

"I don't see why not," Arthur said, but then turned his attention back to the phone. "Hello, Frog. Yes, I'm fine. Listen, do you mind watching over Alfred? No, I can drop him off at your place. Okay, thank you very much." He hung up, surprised that he made it through a very civil conversation with one of his most hated enemies. "He said he'd watch over you. Now, go get dressed and I'll take you over there."

Alfred followed instructions very willingly. It slightly pained Arthur to see his young boy so enthusiastic about staying with the Briton's worst enemy, but at least it would save him the work of hiring a babysitter. Besides, Francis loved Alfred and always treated him as if he were his own child. That had to count for something, didn't it?

_Although he's still a frog,_ Arthur declared to himself as he rang Francis' doorbell.

The charming Frenchman answered almost instantly. "_Bonjour_," he greeted, his thick accent making Arthur cringe. "It's lovely to see the two of you today."

"Yes, well, save the formalities," Arthur grumbled. "Now, Alfred, you be a good lad and listen to Francis, okay?"

Alfred rolled his blue eyes. "Dad, I'm not five. I got it."

Arthur ruffled his son's hair. "I believe you had better manners when you were five than you do now," he replied, which earned him a wide grin from the boy. "I'll close the shop around nine tonight. Francis, you don't mind feeding him, do you?"

Francis smiled. "Of course not. I'll take excellent care of him, I promise."

"Mm." That was all Arthur could let out. "Well, then, I'll see you both later." And, with that, he quickly walked back to his house to prepare himself for a day of work.

Alfred grabbed Francis' arm and tugged it. "What are we gonna do?" he asked, looking about ready to jump up and down.

Francis blinked. Honestly, he had no idea. He knew Alfred was rowdy, but he had hoped he might have calmed down a tad since his school was let out for the summer. Now that he was _this_ rambunctious, though, sitting and reading a book, like Francis wanted to suggest, would be an impossible activity. He quickly started tossing out ideas and adding new ones into his mind. "Well...what is it that you would like to do?"

Pleased with being given the opportunity to make a choice, Alfred actually _did_ start jumping up and down. "The park, the park!" he shouted.

"Not so loud," Francis scolded gently, placing a hand on Alfred's head, right next to that one strand of hair that never seemed to lay flat. "Alright, alright, we'll go to the park. Silly boy." Francis smiled warmly down at the child who cheered again, though it was much quieter this time around.

* * *

><p>When nightfall came, Alfred found himself seated in front of the television, yawning every so often.<p>

"Alfred, why don't you take a short nap until your father comes to pick you up?" Francis asked gently, smiling down at the boy.

However, Alfred just snorted. "I'm not tired. Heroes never get tired." These words were betrayed by yet another yawn, which Alfred desperately tried to hide from the watchful Frenchman.

A smirk grew on Francis' face. "Mm. Sure they don't." He turned his attention back to whatever show it was that they were watching. Honestly, he had never quite understood these silly American cartoons. "Uh, do you mind telling me what this is about?"

Alfred, always up to spread his knowledge around the world, eagerly pointed at the television. "His name is Spongebob Squarepants, and he's a sponge-thingy, and his best friend is Patrick, a starfish, and they flip burgers. Well, Spongebob does, I mean. He works at the Krusty Krab." A thoughtful expression came on the young boy's face as Francis tried hard to grasp the actual _point_ of the show (which he easily concluded that it didn't have one). "Hey, Francis?"

"Hmm?"

"How do they get their hamburgers?"

"What do you mean?"

Alfred scooted closer to him and stared at him, his bright, blue eyes strangely serious, and Francis had to crack a smile. "I mean, don't hamburgers come from cows? And cows don't live under the sea."

Francis had to admit, it was a good question. "Well, I assume you're not actually supposed to think about it. After all, earlier on in this show, I saw a squirrel walking around."

Alfred grinned. "Her name is Sandy, and she's from Texas!"

"Is she really?"

The boy didn't have time to answer that question, for Francis' doorbell rang at that moment. "Dad!" Alfred exclaimed, jumping off of the couch and running to open the door for his father, who looked pleased at such a warm welcome. "Dad, can cows live under the sea?"

Arthur shot Francis a look (that one that meant what-the-hell-have-you-been-telling-my-son?) and said, "No, and you very well know that. Now, if Francis has been feeding you lies-"

"Ah, actually, _mon cher_, it was Spongepants Square...something," Francis assured his 'friend' with one of his charming grins.

"Spongebob Squarepants," Alfred corrected.

"Oh, that odd children's show?" Arthur glanced into the living room and shrugged, 'that look' dying down. "Yes, well, sometimes there are just certain things we don't question, Alfred, and how Krusty Krab gets their meat is one of those things."

Alfred shrugged, now clearly forgetting his question. "'Kay. Hey, Dad, Francis made me a grilled-cheese sandwich, and it was really yummy!"

"Good. Now, what do you say?"

"Thanks, Francis, for the food and taking me to the park and everything!" He gave his neighbor a large hug, which Francis returned.

"It was no problem, really. I'll be happy to do it again, if need be."

Arthur shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can get a few days off every so often, and I was actually thinking about enrolling Alfred in some sort of summer camp, so he can at least get an education while away from school. I don't want my son lazing about the whole summer."

At the mention of summer camp, Alfred put on one of his famous pouts. "But _Dad_! I don't wanna go to summer school! I wanna go to the park!"

Obviously not caring too much about his son's preferences, Arthur shrugged. "I've already found a nice summer _camp_- not school, Alfred-, and it is only from the mornings to evenings, Monday-Thursday. It won't be so bad. Antonio is even thinking about enrolling Feli and Lovi, so you won't be alone."

Francis found himself wishing that he, too, had a young child to enroll in summer camp. Really, taking care of Alfred had been extremely enjoyable, and he also loved watching after Feliciano and Lovino (though he did wish Antonio would teach the elder of his sons some sort of manners). He must have been staring into space for longer than he necessarily meant to, for he suddenly found Arthur's fingers snap right in his face. "Oi, Frog. I've been trying to get your attention for the past minute."

Blushing and focusing his gaze on Arthur, the Frenchman gave a small chuckle. "Ah, yes, sorry. Just thinking."

"Mm. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to pick Alfred up from camp one of the days. I mean, he seems to like your company, and goodness knows I might have my hands full with the bookstore."

"Oh. _Oui_, _oui_, _bien sûr_. Uh, I thought you haven't decided to enroll him just yet."

Arthur shrugged. "Sign-ups end this weekend, so I believe I'll go ahead and jot his name down."

Again, Alfred felt the need to intervene. "C'mon, Dad! I don't need summer school!"

"Camp," Arthur corrected, then looked back up at Francis. "It starts in two weeks. Are you free for any of the days?"

Francis thought about it. "Well, I typically don't plan two weeks in advance, but I should be, unless I have a date."

Arthur snorted. "Date. Sure. More like a one-night stand."

"Dad, Dad, what's that mean?" Alfred asked, tugging his father's sleeve.

Realizing his mistake, Arthur mentally slapped himself and ruffled Alfred's hair. "Ah, well, I...it's just a little thing Francis does because he's a complete and utter idiot, that's all."

This answer seemed to satisfy Alfred for the time being, so the boy just fell silent, trying to stifle another yawn.

"Someone's tired," Arthur pointed out with a small smile.

"No 'm not."

"Yes, he's been yawning like this for most of the night," Francis supplied, patting Alfred's shoulder. "Why don't the two of you head home and put this little boy to bed?"

"I'm not tired!" Alfred denied, though it sounded ridiculous when his eyes could barely stay open anymore.

With a laugh, Arthur grabbed his son's hand. "Right. Well, come along. I guess I should say thank you, Frog, but Alfred's already said it for me."

Francis just shrugged. "I didn't expect any thanks from you, Artie."

"Hmph." Arthur narrowed his green eyes. "Thanks." With that, the two were gone and Francis stared after them with a smug expression.

* * *

><p><strong>I expected better of myself for being gone so long. Really, I did. Eh...I mean, it's not AWFUL, but it most certainly isn't the best chapter I've written so far. Or the longest. Actually, this might be the shortest. Sorry.<strong>

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my great-grandpa, who died on January 2nd. Well done, Papa Nick- you raised an awesome family and a girl couldn't ever ask for a better role model than you.**

**Anyway, sappy, cliched dedication aside, please review. I'm really pleased to be writing for you guys again (goodness me, has it really been a whole freaking MONTH?).**


	7. July

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. Neither is anything else mentioned in this story that might be copyrighted or something.**

* * *

><p>Arthur Kirkland was a very, <em>very<em> grateful man. He supposed he would forever be in the debt of a certain someone who made Alfred's birthday party possible. And, really, it wouldn't be so bad if this person _wasn't_ an annoying Frenchman.

Yes, Arthur had enlisted the help of Francis Bonnefoy.

_Oh, dear Lord, what is the world coming to?_ Arthur thought, standing alongside his neighbor as they supervised the children running around outside. _I really hope he doesn't actually expect me to throw myself down and grovel at his feet. I mean, yes, he did do a good job, but still..._

It really helped when your neighbor was quite skilled at throwing parties. He had admitted to Arthur earlier that day, though, as they were setting up, "I've actually never hosted a party for a child. This is a first for me."

Arthur replied with a grunt as they moved a table to the backyard. "Well, if I have to be perfectly honest, things don't look _that_ screwed up, so you must be okay. Of course, I happen to be helping."

"_Oui_," Francis had chuckled. "Ah, is that _calme_ young boy coming along? _Matthieu_, I believe his name to be."

"Eh? Oh, yes, he is. His mother called and said she'd be dropping him off an hour before the party actually starts, and he'll be spending the night. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." When Arthur narrowed his green eyes, Francis just smirked. "_Monsieur_, why not allow me to trim those massive eyebrows of yours?"

Arthur dropped the table on Francis' leg, earning a yelp. "Bugger off."

* * *

><p>Frankly, the amount of children yelling and shouting was giving the poor Briton quite the headache. <em>I should have never planned this silly party<em>, he thought, rubbing his temples. _Ugh, what a horrible idea._ But, Alfred had wanted a party. He wanted a party with all of his friends and a large cake and presents galore. Anyway, it wasn't everyday that your only son turned ten. It left the gentleman wondering where all of the years had gone. He found himself getting nostalgic as he recalled a time when Alfred would only ever say, "Daddy, Daddy!" in that adorable baby voice of his.

_Now I'm turning into a sentimental old man_, Arthur thought in a grumble, allowing a soft smile to grace his features.

"Hey, Dad!" Alfred skipped over to him, the ten friends he had invited following close behind. "Dad, is it time to eat some cake?"

Of course. Thank Alfred for worrying most about his stomach.

Arthur glanced over at Francis who nodded. "Uh, yes, it actually is. Come now, and sit at the tables over there." He pointed to the cheap, plastic tables that were bought just for this event, and the children, excited with the prospect of finally being able to eat a cake, obeyed his order. "Frog, go get the cake," Arthur mumbled.

Francis rolled his eyes. "You wound me so, _mon ami_."

"Save it."

As the Frenchman walked away, Arthur began setting out plates, napkins, and forks for the children, hearing glimpses of their conversation.

"Alfred, you're so lucky that your birthday is on the Fourth of July," one young boy commented.

Alfred grinned proudly, happy that the attention was on him. "Yep! Dad, Matt, and I are gonna go watch the fireworks tonight!"

They did that every year, and every single time, Alfred was simply amazed at the colorful explosion of lights in the sky.

"Mattie?" the boy blinked over at Alfred's best friend. "You're lucky."

With a blush, Matthew replied, "W-Well, we always, uh-"

"So, Alfred..." Poor Matthew was ignored now as another boy brought something up. "How come your dad has big eyebrows?"

"His eyebrows are fine," Alfred said defensively. Apparently, they weren't aware of Arthur, who was at another table.

"He also has a weird accent."

"I like his accent!" Again, Alfred defended him, and Arthur felt quite pleased to have raised such an amazing son. "Besides, Lovi and Feli and Luddy have weird accents."

Lovino rolled his eyes and put his arms across his chest. "Bastard, quit bringing other people up. I don't want you talking about me."

Deciding now would be a good time to cut in, Arthur made his way to Alfred's table. "Who all wants cake?" he asked.

The answer was unanimous as the children forgot their arguments.

* * *

><p>Everyone, minus Matthew, had left around three that afternoon. After such a long day, Arthur had wanted to take a quick nap. Alfred, on the other hand, would have none of that.<p>

"Dad, did you see what Lovi and Feli got me?" he asked, sitting next to Matthew and playing with his toys. "It's the new Mario game for my Wii!"

"Mm, that's nice."

"Oh, and Mattie drew me this awesome picture! Isn't he a good artist?"

His friend turned a deep red color and began fumbling with his fingers. "I-I didn't have the money to buy anything an-and I thought you might...I'm sorry I couldn't get you something cooler-"

Alfred hushed him with a laugh. "Mattie, I like your drawings! I'm gonna hang it up in my room tonight, after we watch the fireworks!"

On top of Alfred's constant enthusiasm for birthdays, a certain Frenchman refused to leave. "Alfred, may I see that picture, please?"

"Sure!" Alfred passed it over to the man, who looked at it with appraising eyes.

"_Matthieu_, this is _magnifique_! Why, you are quite the artist!" He smiled softly down at the young boy, who looked even more embarrassed then before. "One of these days, you must draw me a picture. Is that alright?"

"Of course he will!"

Arthur sighed. "Alfred, let Matthew answer for himself, please."

All eyes turned on Matthew, who, despite being red in the face, actually looked more than happy. "Uh, sure!" he squeaked out, a soft smile coming over him.

In return, Francis beamed. "_Merci, Matthieu._" Letting the two young boys go back to looking over presents, Francis turned to Arthur. "You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

"Actually, as you very well know, I do. But, since Alfred would insist, yes, you may." He picked up his tea and took a sip, glaring at the Frenchman from over the rim of his cup. "I really do wish Alfred didn't take such a liking to you."

"As you've told me," Francis said, sitting down next to Alfred. "But, it seems you're stuck with me."

Arthur groaned. "Don't put it that way, please. I can think of thousands of people I'd rather be stuck with than you."

Francis fell into an amused silence, watching as Alfred and Matthew played with the action figures that Kiku gave as a gift. "What's his situation like?"

Arthur glanced over at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Keeping his voice low, Francis looked intensely at Arthur. "_Matthieu_. What's his situation at home?"

Making sure the boys weren't listening (and they weren't, they were too preoccupied playing with 'Hamburger Hero' and 'Syrup Man'), Arthur muttered, "His father is a drunk and is always gone. His mother works constantly, and doesn't really keep up much with her son. I was worried about him for quite some time, but he isn't abused in anyway. He just doesn't receive the love and adoration that children need." The Englishman sighed, staring down into his tea. "It's quite upsetting, really, but there isn't much we can do. That's why I try having him over as much as I possibly can. He's such a sweet young boy. It's too bad his parents don't see that."

"_Oui_," Francis softly whispered. "Eh...Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Perhaps if...perhaps if I am able, do you think _Matthieu_ might come and live with me?"

"What, you- you want to adopt the boy?" He quickly glanced over; Matthew and Alfred were completely oblivious to the conversation. "That might be slightly difficult. Unless his parents give a legitimate reason for Social Services to take him from his household, you probably won't be able to do much."

Francis shrugged. "It...it was just an idea. I really do believe that boy is special, though, and he deserves a special home. I'd like to be the one to give that to him."

The Briton groaned. "Honestly, you're nearly making me believe you to be something more than a mindless twat. Before I actually find myself agreeing with you on a subject, why don't you cook dinner for us?"

* * *

><p>"When will it start? We've been sitting here for<em>ever<em>, Dad, why won't it start yet? What time is it? Did you remember to grab the snacks, I'm kinda getting hungry. If you-"

"Alfred," Arthur warned. "I told you not to complain. You're the one who wanted to come out here earlier than we needed to."

Alfred frowned. "Only because I thought that, if we came earlier, it would start earlier."

Arthur couldn't help the chuckle that he gave. "Alfred, sweetheart, they won't just start when you decide to show up. The fireworks won't go off until nine."

His young son merely scoffed. "I knew that. Hey, Dad, you haven't given me a gift yet!" He pointed over to the large bag that Arthur had beside him. "What's in there?"

Laughing, Arthur took out three wrapped gifts. "Fine, fine, you caught me. There's one from Aunt Judy, one from Francis, and one from myself."

"Francis got me a gift?" Alfred grinned. "Thanks!"

"You're most certainly welcome," Francis replied, watching the boy with fond eyes. "I do hope you enjoy it."

Alfred grabbed Aunt Judy's first. "I will, don't worry!" he exclaimed, ripping the wrapping paper off of that one. "Oh, look, another scarf..."

Arthur took the scarf from his son and looked it over. "It's very nice, yet again. She always does make the most lovely presents, doesn't she?"

"It's summer, though," Alfred muttered, though he didn't say anything completely awful about it. Arthur had to admit, that was certainly a step up from last year, when he threatened to throw it in the garbage disposal. Yes, even if he did complain, it was certainly better than a full-out tantrum.

"Never mind that. Go ahead and open the present that the Fro- er, Francis got for you," Arthur replied, waving off Alfred's attitude (and ignoring Francis' questioning gaze at the slip of his nickname). With a lot more excitement this time, Alfred, again, tore the paper off of the present.

A gasp came as Alfred examined his present. "No way, a Lego roller coaster set?"

Being an avid collector of all things Lego, Alfred had been eying this particular item in the store for several months now. Therefore, when Francis had asked what to buy for the boy, Arthur had no trouble pointing him in the right direction. _Now I need to prepare for more of those darn pieces everywhere,_ Arthur thought, though he still didn't lose his smile.

"See, Francis, I told you I'd like it! Hey, when we get home, can Mattie and I play with it? You wanna play, right, Mattie?" Alfred looked over at his friend, who gave a nod. "See?"

"Perhaps," Arthur answered. "You boys might just be too sleepy for that, though. Now, last present, Alfred." Arthur passed his present over to his young son, who opened it with glee.

When the paper was all stuffed in Arthur's arms, Alfred giggled. "Dad, did you make these yourself?"

Arthur peered over the pile of wrapping paper to see Alfred holding up a few toy soldiers. "Er, yes, I did. Do you like them?"

"Yeah! Man, this is so cool! Mattie, we can play war with these guys, right?"

"Right!" Matthew looked excited, almost ready to play with the new toys right now, as he picked one up and looked it over. "It's very nice, Mr. Kirkland."

The Briton had given up on Matthew ever calling him 'Arthur', so he just gave a smile. "Why, thank you very much, Mattie. I know you have quite the eye for art, so that means a lot to me." And, surprisingly enough, it actually did. Strange what the effect of a small child's words could do to a grown man. In Arthur's case, it made his chest swell with pride. _I do admit, I am quite a good artist, and, apparently, a maker-of-soldiers. I really should turn this into a living, shouldn't I?_

He would have probably started planning out his business right there and then (and he had already decided it should be called _Kirkland's Soldiers_) when the first firework interrupted his thoughts.

"Yay!" Alfred and Matthew cheered, standing up to get a better. "Dad, Dad, it's starting!"

"Yes, yes, I see it," Arthur said with a laugh. "It's very pretty."

Each time another firework went off, Alfred and Matthew clapped their hands and gave loud yells to show their appreciation. The main colors consisted of red, white, and blue, which pleased Alfred to no end ("Those are my favorite colors!" he had exclaimed), and, somewhere in the background, a loud instrumental piece of the Star-Spangled Banner was being played.

The show lasted for nearly an hour, until it finally died down. Which was just as well, actually, because Arthur could see the tired eyes of Alfred and Matthew as they began collecting their possessions. "I thought you said you guys wouldn't be tired, Alfred," Arthur teased as he packed the presents back into the large bag.

Alfred merely yawned. "We'll be awake once we get home," he promised.

On the drive back, though, Francis turned to check on the two boys. "They're both fast asleep," he commented in amusement.

Arthur snorted. "I knew they wouldn't be able to stay up for as late as they were planning."

"_Oui_, I believe we both knew." Francis sat up straight in his seat. "So, Arthur, tell me, how long did you spend making those toy soldiers?"

"Eh...a couple weeks, maybe a month. I lost track of time." He caught Francis' smirk as they drove under a streetlight. "What? I thought I did a pretty damn good job on those. So did Matthew, and he's a lovely artist."

Francis laughed. "No need to get so offensive, _mon ami_, I said not a word. I was simply wondering how on earth you, of all people, managed to pull something as _exceptionnel _as that off."

Arthur was pleased that the dark night was hiding his red face. "I'll have you know, my artistic skills are quite fabulous."

"Apparently not."

"What was that?"

"Well, you know what they say- _la cuisine est un art_."

"And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

Knowing he couldn't be seen, Francis smirked once more. "Cooking is an art."

Arthur's grip on the wheel tightened. "If I weren't driving right now, I'd give that face of yours a good smack."

* * *

><p><strong>I meant to have this up sooner. I really did.<strong>

**I went to Wal-Mart with my elder brother a few weeks back. When he saw that Lego thing, his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. He's always wanted one of those since then. He's an odd one.**

**Yes, I made Arthur give Alfred toy soldiers. I'm awful, aren't I? Ripping crap off from the show. Sorry... (also, if you look, I made Arthur say a line that Alfred says- silly me!)  
><strong>

**Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays. You know why? 'Cause it is. Anyway, one week after America's awesome birthday...it's MY birthday. Oh, yeah, baby!**

**Review, comment, favorite, whatever it is you guys wanna do- I don't care. I just hope you enjoyed it!**


	8. August

**IT'S BEEN, LIKE, A MONTH SINCE I'VE UPDATED THIS! And, in that month, I already had half of the story finished. I deeply apologize. *bows low in apology* Feel free to flame me or whatnot.**

**Disclaimer: *witty phrase about Hetalia is obviously not mine***

* * *

><p>All good things must come to an end at some point. In Alfred's case, it was summer. To the young boy, it seemed as if school had just ended, and now he was being forced to attend another year. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, Arthur just wouldn't change his mind. "There's a law, Alfred, stating that parents must send their children to school."<p>

Alfred didn't seem to understand this- either that, or he was unwilling to. "You can lie and say I go to school, Dad! You're smart, so they'll believe you!"

The reply was a small chuckle and, "You're going to school and that's that."

There were still two weeks left of summer, but Alfred would simply not stop moping around. If he had to be honest with himself, Arthur was about ready to yell, but he kept his anger in check. After all, Alfred was just a child, and children always complained about school. It shouldn't be anything new.

Still, it was annoying. When he felt as if he could take it no more, Arthur finally called Antonio and asked for his advice. "I'm just at my wits-end, Antonio, and I have no clue what to do about this."

The Spaniard gave a laugh. "Lovi has been doing the exact same thing, actually. Perhaps they should go out and do something together. That might take their minds off of school, if only for a few hours."

"That does sound good," Arthur muttered. "Besides, we haven't caught up in quite some time, have we?"

"Nope! Say, how about we go fishing? Lovi loves to fish!"

"What about Feliciano?" the Briton asked, checking over his calender to see which days were free.

Again, Antonio laughed. "He's too scared to hurt the fish. I tell him over and over again that they're meant to be eaten, but he just won't allow it. We can throw them back into the lake once we're done, though, _si_?"

"Ah, yes, that might be best. I'm not the best seafood cook in the world, you see."

"Oh, really? I wouldn't have guessed! Your food is...is..."

Arthur frowned. Okay, it was obvious his food wasn't the greatest, but would it kill his friends if they were more subtle about it? He _did_ conjure up a few nice meals every so often. His scones were absolutely delicious and his mince pie wasn't half-bad.

"Well, your food is just you, Arthur!" Antonio finally finished with a laugh, earning himself an an sigh from the Englishman.

"I honestly don't know what you're trying to imply here, Antonio, but it doesn't seem all that kind to me. Once you're done insulting my food, may we please discuss matters pertaining to our trip to the lake?" Arthur asked, trying his best to be as polite as possible.

Giggling, Antonio answered, "_Si, si_, sorry, Artie! Okay, so I was thinking that Lake Hungo would be a good place to fish, because it's nice and sunny, but there's still a lot of shade, and the fishies are everywhere, and Feli loves to pick flowers near the shore, and it's such a pretty place!"

Arthur wrote the name of the lake down on a spare sheet of paper. "I've actually never been there, and neither has Alfred, so this will certainly be a new experience for us. Mind you, though, I'm not so swell at fishing."

"No worries, _mi amigo_! I'll teach you and young Alfred how to catch the largest fish in the entire world!"

"I hope so. Alfred would like that."

So, they exchanged dates and times and locations before finally hanging up, each man hoping that maybe this would change the attitude of their children.

* * *

><p>"This actually is a nice place," Arthur commented upon arriving at their desired location. "I applaud you, Antonio. How did you find it?"<p>

Antonio winked. "I'm lucky, I guess. Plus, little Feli and Lovi have an interest in beautiful nature, so they fell in love with this place."

Of course, Alfred was excited. "Oh, _wow_! This place is awesome! Can we go swimming, too?"

"Maybe," Arthur replied.

Feliciano giggled and also looked enthusiastic about boating. "This will be so much fun. Right, _fratello_?"

His elder brother, on the other hand, just snorted and looked away. "Not really, what with that eyebrows bastard being here."

"Lovi!" Antonio scolded. "Say you're sorry or you won't be able to come with us!"

It took him a few seconds, but Lovino finally sent a glare over to Arthur. "Sorry," he grumbled. "And, I'm only saying that 'cause _papà _told me to."

Arthur accepted the apology, but sent a confused blink over to Antonio, who just shrugged. "He's always been like that," the Spaniard whispered to his friend. "Maybe Gilbert rubs off on him or something."

They decided not to dwell on Lovino's rudeness too much, though, for Alfred and Feliciano were ready to go fishing. "Dad, I got the bait and hooks and stuff!"

Feliciano ran up behind Alfred, struggling with five fishing poles. "A-And, I go-got these!" he panted, dropping a few.

Antonio grinned. "Aw, you two are simply adorable helpers! Here, Feli, lemme take those off your hand." Feliciano easily complied, a bright smile etched upon his face.

"Thank you, _papà_!" Feliciano said, still smiling, and Arthur could practically see Antonio swooning.

"Feli, you're just too adorable!" he squealed. Arthur rolled his eyes at this. Yes, he also thought that Feliciano was one adorable child (though not nearly as adorable as his Alfred, he was firm in adding to himself), but Antonio was such an overly expressive man, to the point where the Englishman wondered why he was still friends with the Spaniard.

Once in the boat, Alfred quickly leaned out, looking into the water. "Whoa! Dad, you should see how deep this lake goes down!" His blue eyes were wide, all worries about school momentarily forgotten.

"Yes, I see it," Arthur responded, smirking at his sons enthusiasm. "Take care not to fall in now, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred disregarded him and stayed where he was. "Hey, Feli, are you looking?" He glanced back at his friend, who was indeed staring down into the lake, though he made no reckless move to nearly fall in as Alfred was.

"_Si!_ It's pretty!"

Alfred laughed. "Yep! Hey, Lovi, are you looking out at the water?"

Lovino was helping his father bait the fishing line. Being the eldest of the children (only by two years, but in his little mind, that was far enough away that he had the right to act so much more mature), Lovino believed that he had already been fishing for enough time that he knew what the lake looked like. "Don't need to," he responded. "Anyway, I'm actually helping!" When his less-than-subtle hint flew right over the other two children's heads, Lovino snorted. "Lazy bastards."

Noting that Antonio didn't even bother keeping his child's language in check this time, Arthur stifled a sigh and cast his line. "Alfred, come here and I'll teach you how to fish."

Antonio glanced over, surprised. "I thought you said you didn't know how."

Arthur allowed Alfred to climb beside him before answering. "I said I wasn't too good at it. I never said I couldn't. I just need someone to give me a few tips so we can catch the bigger fish." He smirked. "Besides, Alfred and I always win, don't we Alfred?"

"We sure do!" Alfred responded, playing along and grinning over at Lovino, who just huffed and muttered something about 'hamburger-idiot' as he went back to work on his own fishing pole.

Chuckling, Antonio responded, "Oh, so this has now turned into a game of who can catch the biggest fish?"

"Indeed it has," Arthur agreed, shooting Alfred a grin. "And, not only will we catch the largest fish, we'll also have the most fish by the end of the day, you can be sure of that."

* * *

><p>However, three hours later and Antonio was in the lead in both categories. "You're not that very good at fishing, are you, Arthur?" he asked as they climbed out of their boat. "Lovi, Feli, and I caught twenty-one fish. How about you?"<p>

The Briton sighed. "Ten," he mumbled, arms crossed over his chest. "Alfred, though, did an amazing job."

Antonio agreed, glancing down at the young boy, who was chattering excitedly with Feliciano, ignoring the fact that he lost their little competition.

After eating a very filling lunch, Arthur and Antonio sat side by side, watching their children play. "Alfred is a fine boy," Antonio commented with a smile. "Where does he get all of that energy?"

"I could ask the same about Feliciano." Arthur had to hold back a laugh when he noticed that Feliciano had run from Alfred, yelling something about him being an alien. "He's always running from something or other."

Antonio shrugged. "He takes a plentiful amount of _siestas_, though, so perhaps he stores up his energy for play. Now, Lovino, on the other hand, releases his energy in loud outbursts."

As if on cue, Lovino started yelling for Feliciano to stop hiding behind him, his face turning red while screaming all the rude names he could. Wincing, Arthur wondered if maybe he should shield Alfred's ears, but he decided against it when Alfred simply started to laugh. "Where the hell does he get that language and attitude from? I know you, Antonio, and you're possibly the most cheerful guy on the entire planet."

The Spaniard apparently had no clue, either. "I've been wondering that myself. I've tried blaming it on Gilbert, since he does come over to our house often, but Lovino was _always_ like this. Do you think I should see someone about it?"

His green eyes looked up with concern over at Arthur, who gave a reassuring smile. "If he's always been like that, it's probably just his personality. I doubt seeing someone will help it go away. If anything, it might make it worse, since Lovino is the type of child who hates other people knowing his business."

"True, true." Antonio glanced back over at his children, smiling fondly. "Their mother would be happy to know how adorable they are right now! I just want to hug them all!"

Arthur stayed silent. He knew Antonio's wife had died shortly after Feliciano's birth, but he never really bothered to ask too much about her. All he gathered was that she was Italian and beautiful, what with the pictures hanging from the walls in Antonio's house. Besides, he was afraid that if he asked too many questions, he'd be forced to tell Antonio about his own relationship. Considering he had already spilled the beans to that damn frog while intoxicated, he wasn't in the mood to let anyone else know.

He didn't have to worry, though, because Antonio didn't seem to want to stay on the topic of marriage. Instead, he said, "What's with that strange cowlick on Alfred?"

Arthur laughed at this question. "I'm not sure. It'll never stay down, though, no matter how much gel I put in his hair." He pointed over to Feliciano, who was now hiding behind Alfred as Lovino came running up to them in a rage. "What about their curls?"

"It's. A. Secret!" Antonio giggled, making Arthur wonder how on earth this man was a father. "I don't usually pull on them, though. I did once to Lovi, and he threw a fit and headbutted me. Quite hard, too. I still wince just thinking about it."

_Only Antonio would think of pulling their curls,_ Arthur thought with a smile. "Well, whatever they are, they do look rather adorable, I have to admit."

"So does Alfred's. You should try pulling it one day and see what happens!" Antonio grinned, acting as if pulling Alfred's cowlick was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'll consider it," Arthur lied. "Anyway, I think we should be off now. I have some housework to finish and Alfred needs to get started on his book report that he's been holding off."

Antonio stood. "_Mierda_, I completely forgot about the book report!" he exclaimed. "I don't know if Lovi has even _read_ the book!"

* * *

><p>Later that night, Arthur tucked Alfred into bed, smiling at Alfred's yawns. "Tired?" he asked.<p>

Alfred shook his head. "No. I'm just making sure my mouth doesn't stay clamped shut." He stared up at his father with innocent, blue eyes.

The Briton laughed. "Well, that's a completely new one." He kissed Alfred's forehead. "I had fun today, love. Did you?"

"Yeah!" Alfred nodded excitedly. "It's okay that we didn't win, though, right? We tried our hardest, and we still caught a lot of fish! Plus, lunch was awesome, because Antonio is a really good cook, isn't he? Lovi kept getting angry, though, but it was funny because he turned really red, like ketchup, and so I had to protect Feli from him!"

Arthur laughed. "Yes, I did see Lovino getting rather irritated. I'm glad you protected Feliciano, though. That's what true heroes are supposed to do." When Alfred beamed, Arthur kissed him once more before turning out his light. "We'll do it again next week. Does that sound good?"

"Alfred instantly agreed. "Yeah! And it'll be so cool 'cause we'll win next time, right?"

"Right. Good night, Alfred."

"Night, Dad!"

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. I completely suck at endings. Heh. My favorite little 'excuse' to being sleepy (as Alfred used 'I'm just making sure my mouth doesn't stay clamped')<strong> **is from my dad; 'I'm checking the back of my eyelids for cracks'. Oh, love that guy. :)**

**Lake Hungo is a mixture between Hurricane Hugo (back in, like, the 1970's or something- not that I was alive) and a lake my great-grandfather used to own, the Pongo or something weird like that. I dunno, I only ever went there once or twice. *shrugs* Also, I'm not very good with catching fish. I don't like the idea of pulling up a live, struggling creature from it's home. Makes me sad. I do enjoy eating them, though.**

**As always, I hope you enjoyed, even if it was rather late! If you review, you will get...a fish. :D A fish named Larry.**


	9. September

**Guess...who's...BACK? Me, of course. My absence was inexcusable, and I do apologize for making my billions of fans wait so long for this update. ****I know how much you missed me, how much you cried over my lack of chapters being updated. Alas, fate is cruel to you, isn't it?**

**All sarcasm aside, I really DON'T have any reason why this was so late. I suppose I could go with the whole, "I had no motivation," but, as you could tell, I was making new stories. Maybe no motivation for this particular chapter? Eh...whatever. It's out, now, and hopefully I can get the rest done in the next couple of weeks. We'll see.**

**Disclaimer: Guess who doesn't own Hetalia? You. And me (to some extent, mawahaha! okay, never mind). **

* * *

><p>If there was one thing Arthur enjoyed more than the coming of spring, it was the coming of fall. The leaves would always change into brilliant explosions of orange, red, and yellow. The wind would become a bit more chilly, sometimes biting at his neck, until he was forced to wear a light jacket whenever he wished to go out.<p>

On top of the beauty that surrounded him, fall also meant a new school year, which kept Alfred out of his hands for a little bit. Even if he sometimes missed his young son, he couldn't deny how nice it felt to take a day off of work and just sit around with a cup of tea, no sounds reaching him but the chirping of the birds as they began to prepare for winter.

Only one thing ruined his love of fall, and that was the raking.

Arthur was a man who loved having his yard in tip-top shape. He had received an award a few times for having the best yard in the neighborhood (it wasn't much, really, they just put a small sign out on his lawn for the world to see). However, because Francis moved in, the competition was a bit more rough. As it turned out, Francis also enjoyed having beautiful yards.

In fact, he was the one who stole the award away from Arthur the last spring. "Well, the best man won," he stated, smiling proudly and admiring the sign.

Arthur had just slammed his door shut and vowed never to speak to the Frenchman again.

Which didn't work, since Alfred loved Francis and Francis made it a point to show up uninvited whenever he felt like it.

Francis' win brought a new sort of determination in Arthur. From that moment on, he worked twice as hard to keep his place looking perfect. It involved much more work than he expected, but it was all worth it in the end, when he was able to rub it in that damn frog's face how amazing he was for winning _yet again_.

Fall was always the hardest season to work through, though. When the leaves started falling, Arthur had to rake. He couldn't wait for all of them to fall, either- that would probably take until December, considering what happened the other years. Once the leaves dropped from the trees, he always took it upon himself to rake them up, keeping his yard spotless.

More often than not, he roped Alfred into helping him. It usually took a bribe of some sort, but he was able to do so.

"No, just rake them into that bigger pile I made already, Alfred."

They were outside, both wearing cozy and light jackets, working hard at getting rid of the dead, crumbly leaves. Over the night, the wind was particularly strong, causing more leaves to fall off the trees than usual. Arthur had woken early, just so he could get a head-start on his place. This also meant Alfred had to wake up early, and after a tiring week of school, his son wasn't enjoying this at all.

"I'm making my own pile," he grumbled, not listening to what his father told him.

Arthur gritted his teeth but decided not to push it. Alfred was quite grumpy in the mornings, and Arthur wasn't in the mood to experience it, considering how grumpy he _himself_ was on weekend mornings, on his days off of work. "Don't make it too small," was all he said as he turned back to his own rake.

Alfred, being Alfred, apparently decided to ignore his order, and had taken the time to make the tiniest piles he could, all in a matter of a few, short minutes.

The Englishman groaned. "Alfred, why do you do this to me?" he asked, smacking the palm of his hand against his forehead. "Please, just...just gather them all up in one big pile."

The boy tugged at his jacket and stared over at his father with tired eyes. "Can I go back inside? The cartoons are on!"

"Not until you do as I say," Arthur demanded, rubbing his gloved hands together in an attempt to wipe dirt off of them. "You're deliberately disobeying me, so you're going to have to work for your television shows. "

As expected, this brought out a whine from Alfred. "But, Dad, I've been working hard!"

"Alfred, don't test my patience." Arthur glared dangerously at his son until the boy turned away to work on those piles once more.

Silence fell between the two, only broken by Alfred's occasional sighs. It was better than complaining, so Arthur didn't fuss over it. Instead, he simply kept to himself, stuffing the leaves in multiple bags and carrying them to the front of his yard.

"Hey, Dad?"

Arthur held back a groan. "What is it, Alfred?"

Alfred dropped his rake and took off one of his gloves, frowning down at his hand. "I think I got a blister."

His father glanced over. "Did you, now? Come, let me see." Once Alfred stood in front of him, Arthur grabbed his thumb and looked it over. There was indeed a blister there, not a very big one, but a blister, nonetheless.

Instantly, a wave of guilt swept over the Englishman. He was the one who ordered Alfred to continue his work, and look what happened. Biting, his lip, Arthur patted Alfred's arm. "It's not too bad," he muttered. "Let's go get it cleaned up, though, shall we?"

Once indoors, Arthur ordered Alfred to wash his hands, then he set his son upon the bathroom counter, rifling through the drawers. "Where did I put those blasted bandages?" he muttered. There was no reply, so Arthur just continued his search, until he came across the Spongebob Squarepants Band-Aids he bought nearly a month before. "Ah. Here we are." Giving Alfred a gentle smile, Arthur wrapped one around his thumb. "It should heal very shortly," he said.

Alfred jumped down to the floor, looking over his father's handiwork. "Can I watch cartoons now?" he asked.

With a sigh, Arthur put the Band-Aids away. "Yes, yes. Go right on ahead."

* * *

><p>As predicted, Arthur saw Francis out the next day, working on his yard. What he didn't expect, though, was to also see Antonio and Gilbert out there helping him. "Oh, <em>hola, <em>Arthur!" Antonio cried out, waving his hands wildly as he spotted the Englishman across the street. "It's a fine day, isn't it?"

Arthur marched right over to Francis' house, glaring at the trio as they raked leaves into piles. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

Francis chortled. "What does it look like, _cher _Arthur? We're making my yard beautiful." He glanced over at Arthur's place, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "My, my. You didn't get much done, did you?"

"Unlike _you_, I'm a father," Arthur growled. "I have certain responsibilities to attend to that you lack. On top of which, I don't rope my friends into helping me clean my yard."

It was at that moment that Gilbert finally decided to speak up. "He's paying us! Awesome, right?"

Arthur just glared over at him. Unfortunately, his glare didn't strike any sort of fear into the trio, for they all smiled innocently.

"You might not rope your friends into helping you," Francis said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "But, I do recall spotting young Alfred out here as I walked past the window yesterday. You tend to work your son very hard."

"Bastard." Arthur gritted his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest. "Quit trying to make me seem like some sort of monster. He barely worked whatsoever, and even then, he didn't mind helping out." That was a bit of an understatement, but there was no way that Arthur was going to let Francis tell him that he was a bad parent.

Gilbert perked up, sensing a fight, while Antonio just sighed and continued his work.

Instead of attacking each other, though, Francis merely laughed and gave Arthur's shoulder a pat. "_Oui, _I know, Arthur. You're just so easy to rile up."

Arthur groaned, then turned away from Francis. "No matter how much you work, I'll still beat you," he snarled before heading back to his own house, ready to work until his yard was spotless and gorgeous.

* * *

><p>No matter how much Arthur raked, though, the leaves just kept on falling. He'd wake up each morning to find the leaves littered about his yard. This caused his free time to dwindle as he worked harder than ever outside.<p>

He didn't force Alfred to help him again. Sometimes, his son would do so out of the goodness of his heart, but more often than not, he would sit on the porch and finish his homework, asking the occasional question from Arthur, who would reply to the best of his abilities.

It wasn't the best of set-ups in the world, but Arthur found that he would make do with what was given to him. Besides, he was much too angry with Francis to fume over anything else.

Francis was the one taking all his time away. If Francis would just stop fixing up his yard, Arthur would stop fixing up his own. He _knew_ Francis was doing this to irritate him, and knowing that just made him even more irritated. It was almost as if Francis wanted Arthur to hate him, wanted Arthur to do something drastic and evil and positively rotten.

Arthur knew better, though. He wouldn't fall for Francis' trap. No matter how messy his yard was every morning, no matter how clean Francis' own yard was every morning, no matter any of that. He certainly wasn't going to stoop that low.

Until, of course, he woke earlier than usual one morning only to find Francis in his front yard, throwing leaves everywhere. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Arthur yelled, stepping out on his lawn, forgetting that he was still wearing his pajamas.

His anger, again, didn't seem to faze Francis. The Frenchman simply looked amused at Arthur's current apparel, and said, "Just what it looks like- I'm making you work extra hard. Why, does it bother you?"

Arthur felt as if he were about to explode. "Kindly get off my property," he hissed, voice dangerously low. "And if you ever come back again, I'll phone the police."

"Now, now, Arthur, isn't that taking everything a bit too far?" Francis asked, finishing his work of ruining the Englishman's yard. He admired what he did before turning back to his neighbor. "After all, I'm merely trying to deter you from rubbing your ridiculous award in my face. Goodness knows you do it often."

Nearly letting loose the string of swear words he was certain Francis had coming for him, Arthur opened his mouth. "Now, you listen here. You're playing dirty, and I've a right mind to tell on you."

Francis put a hand to his chest in mock fear. "My, I'm trembling!"

And then Arthur lashed out, hitting Francis and trying to push him away. "Get off my lawn, you bloody frog! Damn you to hell, and all your stupid-"

"Dad?"

Both men ceased their fighting to stare at Alfred, who was standing at the front door, looking as if he had just woken from bed. Arthur felt his heart plummet. This wasn't how a father should be acting. He should be acting like a role-model, not like some greedy kindergartner. "Er...wh-what are you doing up so early, Alfred?"

Alfred yawned, scratching at his messy hair. "I heard you get up, so I followed. Why are you fighting with Francis?"

Arthur wasn't sure how to reply to this. If he continued to just point fingers, Alfred would probably follow his example. Yet, he very well couldn't just admit that he was being childish, could he? Desperate for some way to let this subject just drop, Arthur stammered, "W-Well, you see, Francis and I are both-"

"We're just settling some arguments like mature adults," Francis broke in, smiling over at the young boy. "Are we not, Arthur?"

The look in Francis' eyes told Arthur not to even bother correcting him, even if he felt it was a jab to his unbelievable behavior. "Indeed," he muttered. "Alfred, love, you go back to bed, okay? It's not yet time for you to be awake."

Alfred looked curiously at the two crazy men, standing out on his front yard, before nodding and walking back inside. Once he was out of view, Arthur sighed, drawing away from Francis. "Sorry," he muttered, though he didn't stop glaring. "My reaction wasn't called for."

Francis looked around at the leaves he had thrown everywhere, guilt displayed clearly on his face. "Ah, I'm sorry, too, Arthur. This was foolish of me."

They stood in silence for a few seconds, before Arthur asked, "You came out here every morning, this early, just to throw leaves in my yard?"

"_Oui_."

"Where did you get this many, anyway?"

"The tree behind my house. I would rake them up in the evenings and dump them here."

"Oh."

Arthur resisted the urge to punch Francis in the face.

Francis pointed over at Arthur's clothing, an amused light in his blue eyes. "I do love your clothing this fine day, Arthur."

Which was when Arthur realized he was still wearing an oversized t-shirt with unicorns plastered all over it and his Winnie-the-Pooh pants that Alfred picked out for him one year. His face turned bright red when he saw Francis laughing. "Bugger off," he snapped, quickly stalking back into his house.

* * *

><p><strong>The idea from this chapter came from two things- one, <strong>**my neighborhood has this 'best yard of the season' thing. I'm certain the neighbors to the left of us are always pissed, because while their yard looks so beautiful and gorgeous and fantastic, our yard is just plain. I think they won the award ONCE. We've never won it. XP Second, my mom would always make me rake some old lady's yard. Always. In the cold, for long hours (holy hell, that yard has loads of leaves) with no breaks and no food. I refused to do it last year, though. REFUSED. I did it for another lady, but only because she paid me.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this long-awaited chapter! *applause from the audience* ****If you liked it, please feel free to leave a review and say how awesome I am. Not that I don't already know that, but it's nice to hear it more, ya know? ;)**


	10. October

**The only thing I shall say is this- I am not a month late. *accepts applause from audience* Now, this was actually supposed to be posted up last week. However, I fell ill and couldn't write anything intelligent, and then I got stuck on the final page. Le sigh. I'm honestly no good at endings.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Would you <em>stand still<em>, Alfred?" Arthur snapped, feeling his patience slip as Alfred shifted once more, nearly tearing the button off his coat again. "This is what you get when you are reckless."

Alfred frowned, clearly ready to start pouting and whining. "I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it."

Arthur didn't answer, finally finishing his task of sewing the button on. "There," he muttered, drawing back with his needle and string. "Listen to me next time when I ask you to calm down, okay?" He didn't even wait for Alfred's reply, knowing it would just be the usual rehearsed apology that all children would give to their parents. "Matthew, is everything set straight on your outfit?" He could at least be assured that Matthew hadn't ruined anything. Alfred, on the other hand, obviously wasn't mature enough to be trusted alone with a pirate outfit and fake sword.

The much quieter boy looked himself over and gave a nod. "Yes, sir," he answered, giving a shy smile. "Thanks for making this costume for me, Mr. Kirkland."

"Oh, it was no trouble." Matthew's kind attitude melted away Arthur's previous irritation, and he found himself smiling once more. "You two look amazing."

With a grin, Alfred raised his fake sword. "Yo-ho, mateys!" he yelled in what he believed to be a perfect pirate voice. "Shiver me timbers!"

Arthur snorted. "Wonderful, Alfred," he praised sarcastically. "Just wonderful."

His lack of enthusiasm, though, didn't seem to bother Alfred much. "Hey, Dad, when can we go? I'm bored of waiting here."

"Once Antonio arrives with Lovino and Feliciano," Arthur responded, straightening down Matthew's hair. "They should be here any minute."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. "They're here!" Alfred exclaimed, running to answer the door. "Hey, Anto- oh, hi, Francis!"

Arthur groaned, slapping a hand over his face as he followed Alfred to the door. He didn't expect the frog to be here, and he didn't want the frog to be here. "What do you want, Francis?" he growled, pushing Alfred back. "I didn't invite you."

Francis, wearing a tie and dress pants and looking absolutely spiffy, just smirked. "Why, _monsieur_, I came to see the little ones." He pushed Arthur aside, as he usually did when he came to visit, and spotted Alfred and Matthew. "Oh, what lovely costumes!"

Pleased with Francis' reaction, Alfred grinned happily. "Yeah, Dad made them for us! We're pirates!" He took his fake sword and, again, raised it in the air. "I'm Captain Alfred, and this is Captain Matthew!"

Francis chortled, patting Alfred on his head. "_Oui_, you two are marvelous captains." He glanced over at Matthew. "_Matthieu_, that color suits you quite nicely."

"Doesn't it, though?" Arthur broke in, giving a satisfied smile and a nod of his head. "Took me forever to bloody sew. But, it was worth it, seeing as how it turned out amazing." He took pride in his work, and it made him feel all the better when others noticed his remarkable creativity.

Matthew blushed. "Th-Thanks," he muttered, clearly feeling a bit awkward to be under such attention. Luckily, he was saved from saying anything more by the ding-dong of Arthur's doorbell.

The Englishman marched to answer, muttering, "That had _better_ be Antonio." And, as wished, when Arthur opened the door, he found the Spaniard grinning on his porch, ushering his two children inside. "Happy Halloween, Arthur!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Where are the other two?" He needn't have asked, though, for Alfred and Matthew both came running up, Francis following close behind. Once Antonio laid his eyes on their costumes, he gasped. "Amazing, Arthur! They look absolutely adorable! Aw, such cute children we have, no? Oh, _hola_, Francis! I was about to go visit you at your house."

Francis smiled charmingly. "I thought this place was much more lively. It's not everyday I have my own personal Brit to irritate, is it, Arthur?"

Arthur's eyebrow twitched as he turned to face Lovino and Feliciano. Both were dressed as chefs, and very fine ones at that. "Antonio, where did you get these costumes?" Arthur asked. "They look amazing."

Stopping his conversation with Francis, Antonio replied, "I have a seamstress friend, and she is quite skilled with her hands, as you can tell."

Francis' eyes sparkled with amusement. "Skilled with her hands, you say? My, you must-"

"Git, not in front of the children," Arthur hissed, smacking the Frenchman.

* * *

><p>Alfred laughed, counting the candy in his basket. "I don't have very much yet!"<p>

"It's because we haven't been out for too long," Matthew replied intelligently, giving a small smile as he realized he had at least one piece more than Alfred did, judging by the looks. "Besides, I'm sure most people are rationing the candy so there will be enough to go around."

"What's rationing?" Alfred asked, though he clearly didn't look as if he were interested at all. Matthew didn't even bother trying to explain it.

Suddenly, Alfred was jerked back by Lovino. "Bastard, watch where you're going," he growled, successfully stopping a near-collision Alfred would have faced with some younger child. "Damn, you're really idiotic, aren't you?"

Feliciano tugged on his brother's arm. "Don't say mean things like that, Lovi! Alfred didn't mean to!"

"Yeah!" Alfred gave a pout, crossing his arms. "You're just a meanie-face, Lovi." However, he didn't mean anything by this, and Lovino must have known that, for they didn't argue about that fact. "Hey, look, I think I see Kiku up ahead!" He flailed his arms about, positively beaming. "Hey, Kiku!"

The young Japanese boy noticed his friends (for one would have to be pretty blind and deaf to not notice Alfred) and scurried on over, his fox tail dangling behind him. "H-Hello," he stammered out to the group, bowing his head politely.

"Hey, Kiku, have you met Lovi and Feli?" Alfred asked, pulling him towards the two Italian brothers. "Feli is that younger, shorter one and Lovi is the mean one."

"Hello, Feli-chan and Lovi-chan," Kiku greeted. He then noticed Matthew standing right beside him. "Oh, and hello to you, too, Matthew. I didn't see you there."

Matthew shrugged. "It's okay," he muttered, completely used to that sort of treatment.

Alfred glanced around. "Where's your dad?" he asked, unable to find the Chinese man that adopted Kiku. "I thought he always comes trick-or-treating with you."

Kiku gave a soft smile. "He told me I can be trusted to go alone. Only, I have to stay within this street. And, besides, I believe I'm going to Heracles house. I have enough candy to last me a while, and Heracles hasn't played with me in a long time."

Glancing into Kiku's candy bag, Alfred made a face. "That doesn't look like a lot," he observed, unable to grasp the fact that most people didn't eat nearly as much as he did.

"It is for me," Kiku replied. "Well, I must be off. It was nice meeting everyone." He bowed his head and stumbled off, tripping over the long, fox tail clipped to the back of his pants.

Lovino scoffed. "He was weird. How come we never see him at school?"

"He's home-schooled!" Alfred answered, acting as if it was the most amazing thing on the planet. "His dad, Yao, teaches him everything! Isn't that awesome? He probably doesn't have to do any homework."

Feliciano grabbed hold of Alfred's arm. "But I bet he doesn't have recess, either!"

This seemed to make the boys considerably brighter about having a recess when Kiku didn't, but Lovino, the ever-smart middle school student, was quick to crush their dreams. "Middle schools don't have playgrounds, you know."

* * *

><p>"Remind me again why this was a good idea," Arthur grumbled, seated on his couch and glaring over at Francis, who feigned a look of complete and utter innocence. "I hate having you in my house."<p>

"But, _mon cher_, you need some sort of company on Halloween! Antonio and I are happy to oblige."

Antonio, grinning cheerfully and without a care in the world, instantly agreed. "Francis told me you're always alone, Arthur. That's not good. You need friends, like us!"

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "My friends, as a matter of fact, just so happen to be out of town or-"

"What other friends do you have?" Francis asked, suddenly looking curious and concerned.

This didn't do much to help Arthur's already-foul temper. "I have many friends, Francis," he growled through gritted teeth. "Like I said, they're out of town or helping children with trick-or-treating." If he had a quarter for every time Francis irritated him, Arthur would be insanely rich. Francis was just that sort of person who knew how to rub his skin the wrong way.

Francis sat back in his chair, regarding Arthur with suspicion in his eyes. "I would like to meet them," he declared, twirling his fingers around his wavy, blond hair. "I must make sure these friends don't mistreat _ma belle_ Arthur."

"Quit giving me those weird, French nicknames!" Arthur snapped, quite pleased that he couldn't speak much French. He honestly didn't want to know what those words meant. "And, no, you, of all people, are not meeting with any of my friends."

As if rehearsed, Antonio spoke up. "I will, then! No worries, Francis, I'll make sure these friends are perfect for Arthur."

"Ah, thank you, Antonio." Francis patted his friend's hand, leaning across his seat to do so, as Antonio was currently sitting next to Arthur. "I trust you with my life."

Arthur wanted to groan. "Neither of you are meeting my friends. End of discussion."

This gained him a few minutes of silence before Antonio said, "Well, Gilbert likes meeting new people, doesn't he?"

"_Oui_." Francis nodded. "He would be a good choice. He has the liveliness to easily make them comfortable enough to show their true intentions."

"_None_ of you are going to meet my friends." Arthur did groan this time. "Not Francis, not Antonio, not Gilbert." Not only would they scare of his friends, but he really didn't have any friends to scare off. If he had to be truthful, Francis and Antonio were the only two people he regularly hung out with on a daily basis.

Which absolutely terrified him to bits.

Antonio gave a small pout. "Arthur, you're very mean."

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of that." Arthur checked the clock on his wall. "I don't think we should have trusted them."

"Who?" Francis looked surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

"The children, git." Scowling, the Englishman leaned back in his chair. "They're an unruly bunch, the lot of them, and I can't believe I ever allowed Alfred and Matthew to go trick-or-treating without supervision."

Instead of seeming worried, though, the two other men merely smiled. "Aw, Arthur, Lovinio's old enough to watch after them. He'll make sure the young ones stay in line, I assure you."

"_Oui_." Francis nodded, agreeing with the Spaniard. "Besides, _Matthieu_ is also a smart child. I've noticed that he tends to watch over Alfred when need be." With a pointed smirk, he continued. "You're simply a worrywart, Arthur. You need to loosen up some. Would you like me to open a bottle of wine?"

Arthur looked away. "Heavens no. I'm not even going to be tempted into getting drunk when Alfred could arrive home at any minute." He always made sure that he only drank when his son was away for a while. Being a bad role model was one of his worst nightmares, and he had no wish for Alfred to see him wasted.

Francis and Antonio both gave a sigh, glancing over at each other. "Arthur is boring, isn't he?" Antonio asked.

"He most certainly is. Why, he must have been grumpy from the day he was born."

Arthur's rather large eyebrow twitched. "Stop that. I'm right here."

He could see Francis opening his mouth to say more, but was saved by the knock on his front door. "Thank goodness," he murmured, quickly leaving the room to answer it.

"Hiya, Dad!" Alfred was grinning as he stepped into the house, Matthew, Lovino, and Feliciano right behind him. "You should have come with us! We even went into a haunted house! It was scary, but I managed to make it all the way to the end, because I'm a hero and that's what heroes-"

"He didn't make it past the entrance," Lovino grumbled, walking away from the younger children.

Alfred gave a pout. "Don't listen to him, Dad. I made it all the way through."

"Oh, I'm sure," Arthur replied, closing his door and trying to hide his smile. Lovino's tale was much more believable than Alfred's, but he wasn't going to say anything. After all, Alfred deserved to have one day where he could act like a brave lad. "Did you get a lot of candy?"

In response, Alfred held out his bag. "Look! I went through every house I could!"

Arthur looked at the massive amount of candy. "It looks as if though you went to every house _twice_."

His son gave a sheepish smile and scurried off to the kitchen to place his candy down. Arthur turned his gaze on Matthew, who was laughing at something Feliciano had said. "How about you two?"

"Oh, I got a lot, too," Matthew said, glancing down at his bag. "I think we all got the same amount."

Well, that sent a wave of relief through Arthur. He was afraid the boys would start up a fight if someone got more, especially Alfred and Lovino. "Well, why don't you all choose a few pieces to eat and come into the living room to watch a movie?"

As the boys grabbed their candy and ran into the living room, laughing and yelling, as he heard Francis and Antonio join in, Arthur knew it was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><strong>My endings suck. Seriously.<strong>

**Er, anyway, please feel free to leave a review if you liked it! I don't have much to say, so...yeah...until next chapter!  
><strong>


	11. November

**THIS CHAPTER...is late. It also has a...kinda depressing tone to it? I'm sorry, I just wrote what came to mind, and...ahem. Yeah.  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Aren't you a little too young to be participating in this sort of thing?" Arthur asked, reading over the information sheet that Alfred had handed him earlier that evening. "I mean, I understood it back in third grade, but now?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "It just seems a tad bit childish for fifth graders."<p>

Of course, Alfred was a childish boy, so he didn't mind the immaturity of it one bit. "Please, Dad? This is the last chance I'll ever get for another one of these, and they were always so much fun and I'll never get tired of them and Matthew's mom is bringing something in, and Antonio will also come-"

This caught Arthur's attention. "Matthew's mother will show up?"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, yeah. For, like, a little bit. Mattie says that she wants to help out some, since she's never really come to any of his things."

Arthur sat back in his seat, staring at the sheet of paper that excitedly proclaimed a Thanksgiving feast the elementary school was pulling together. "Do you have to dress up like it says?" Arthur finally muttered. "I honestly don't have the money to buy you any outfits, and it's too short of a notice to make you anything."

Sensing that he pretty much won, Alfred grinned and shook his head. "No, you don't! That's only for the younger kids anyway, see? Says so right here."

"Ah, yes, I see it now." Arthur sighed, laying the paper down. "Well, I guess I can make some scones or something."

Alfred smacked his lips together, making a popping sound. "Actually, I signed you up for pie, and I told the teacher you'd buy it from the store. She's still kinda nervous about your cooking after the Halloween scones you made for my class."

"Yes, well, there's no possible way I gave her food poisoning. She was obviously sick from the common flu. Simple-minded teacher, not realizing that children carry diseases, honestly having the audacity to call me to complain about something that wasn't even-"

"_Dad_," Alfred groaned. "You did this the other day, too. I think your Halloween scones tasted fine, but Miss Straightman just...didn't like them. Maybe she just doesn't like scones."

Arthur grumbled out some inaudible response, knowing very well that now he was acting quite immaturely. However, he really did have enough of people telling him his cooking wasn't good. He tried, he truly did, and that had to count for something, yes? Still, perhaps Alfred had been right in making him buy the pie at the store. He wasn't in the mood to have to air out the kitchen for the fourth time in a month.

* * *

><p>"Would you please explain your appearance to every event I choose to partake in?" Arthur mumbled to Francis as they set up for the Thanksgiving feast the elementary students were having. "You're not even a parent here."<p>

Francis shrugged, carefully placing out his own desert, some sort of French-thing that looked like it took all night to make. Arthur thinks that he'll get a kick out of watching the children devour it without taking time to appreciate the 'culinary skills' that Francis claimed he possessed (yes, Arthur did think his cooking was good, but he wanted to see that French ego deflate some before complimenting anything Francis created). Besides, it would be his own fault for baking such complicated-looking dishes.

Turning back to his task, Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not even sure how you figured out about this. Other than from Antonio or Gilbert or..." Okay, so maybe it wasn't too difficult for Francis to find out what the school was doing, considering most of his friends had children or younger siblings.

"Actually," Francis spoke up, then hesitated. "Well, your son told me."

"Alfred? Oh." Figures. That kid was too darn excited about this whole fiasco. "What, and you felt as if you had to come and volunteer? You know, I can do this perfectly fine without you. I don't get why you have to try acting like Alfred's uncle or something. To be honest, it's just a bit creepy, how you happen to show up-"

"Arthur, you silly man." Francis laughed at Arthur's rambling, earning him a glare which he paid no heed to. "My reason for coming wasn't exactly to help out with this. Of course, while I'm here, I shouldn't stand around and order people to do this or that. Might as well make myself useful, as you would say, _oui_?" Still chuckling, Francis began cutting out even slices of Arthur's pecan pie (which, upon buying it, sent Alfred in a pouting mood for the rest of the day, proclaiming every five seconds that he hated pecan pie).

Ignoring Francis' annoying laughter, Arthur pinned up a drawing of a turkey to the wall. "What was the real reason, then?"

"Well, it was actually something that Alfred said."

"Which was?"

Francis sighed. "He told me that _Matthieu's_ mother would be arriving to help volunteer, and I just...well, I have some silly thought in my head that I...I would just like to meet her."

When Arthur looked over at Francis, he was surprised to note that the Frenchman looked _flustered_. He blinked, green eyes simply staring, unable to comprehend the fact that Francis seemed so incredibly lost. "You're checking up on him, aren't you?"

"Pardon?"

Arthur gestured over to the door where the parent volunteers had been coming through, though he had yet to see any sign of Matthew's mother. "When she comes, you wish to watch her, to see if she is a good parent for Matthew, correct?"

A smile came to Francis' face. "Ah, am I that easy to read?"

"Most of the time, no. You let your mask slip this once, however." Arthur stepped down from the chair he was on, crossing his arms over his chest. "Listen, Francis. I know you love Matthew. I do as well. Goodness knows I wish he had a lovely home where his parents saw just how special of a child he truly is. I do wish there was a way we could somehow get him out of the environment he lives in, somehow we could see that he gets the love he deserves, but...we can't do much, Francis. No one is harming him, from what I can tell, and they _are_ making sure he gets what he needs."

Francis shrugged, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes. Once again, the Briton was surprised at how different of an attitude this was. He thought Francis was never flustered or nervous or- _no, he's none of those things. He's just so concerned._ "I want more for the child, that's all. Isn't this pathetic of me? I'm almost looking for a flaw in this woman, any flaw, simply so I can have _Matthieu_ all to myself."

"A tad pathetic," Arthur agreed. "You do have good intentions, I'll give you that much." He turned back to his chair. "Don't slack off any. I don't care if the woman starts World War Three, you'll finish fixing the table."

They worked quietly alongside the other talkative parents, Francis glancing up every time the door to the gym opened and whisper, "Is that her?" By the eighth time of asking, Arthur was beginning to get quite irritated and was almost pleased when he saw Matthew's mother finally walk in. "There she is, frog. Now quit bothering me and don't you _dare_ stop working to spy on her."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Francis muttered, obviously paying very little attention to what Arthur said and more attention on the stone-faced woman who had started to talk to one of the other ladies.

Whenever Arthur would look over at Francis from then on, he noticed the alert stare in the other. "Save it, Francis," he demanded after a few minutes. "It's not like she's going to start throwing nukes at all of us."

He thought Francis hadn't heard him at first, for he received no answer, but then he heard, "I'm going to speak with her."

"What? You git, she won't-" But Francis was already halfway across the room at that point. Arthur groaned. "I swear, I'll kill him one day," he grumbled to himself as he decided to follow. Just so he could drag Francis back to work, not because he was curious or anything. Eavesdropping was wrong, he had to remind himself. Gentleman didn't partake in such dishonest activities.

So he threw away the gentleman title for the time being and hovered back, listening in on the conversation.

"_Bonjour, mademoiselle._" Francis brought on the charm quite early, extending his hand out in a greeting. "I am Francis Bonnefoy."

As expected, Matthew's mother looked a little weary. "I'm Mrs. Williams," she replied, cautiously shaking Francis' hand. "Do I know you?"

Francis chuckled, shaking his head. "_Non, non_. I'm just here with someone else volunteering. You know Alfred Kirkland?"

"Yes, he's one of Matthew's little friends, I believe."

"Well, I'm his neighbor. I've had the privilege of meeting Matthew a few times, and I must say that he was one of the most adorable little boys I have ever had the chance to be around." Francis smiled warmly, and Arthur knew that he wasn't exactly acting now- he truly did love the boy. "He's so polite and sweet and very considerate of others."

Mrs. Williams blinked. "Oh. Why, thank you, I guess. He is a nice boy." She smiled faintly, looking a bit pleased at the comments.

Of course, Francis wasn't going to stop until he found a flaw in this woman. Arthur knew how determined the Frenchman could be, and he inwardly cursed. This would go on until Francis felt as if he had the right to take Matthew away. "Who raised him to be so wonderful? Was it you or his father?"

The woman faltered a bit at this one. "Oh, I...I suppose it was both of us. Parenting is a job for two, you know?" She swallowed. "Listen, it's been a pleasure talking to you, but I really must-"

"Oh, but we have plenty of time!" Francis waved off her protests. Arthur wondered if Mrs. Williams would complain about him to the school. He _was_ being rather pushy. "I was just curious about Matthew's personality. He seems very shy, and he really only has one friend."

"One friend?" Mrs. Williams narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to put my child down, Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"I most certainly am not!" Francis huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm just worried about his well-being. He's far too shy for his own good, and I overheard one day that-"

Sensing that this wouldn't end well, Arthur quickly reached forward and grabbed Francis' arm. "There you are!" he exclaimed. "Come along, you've yet to finish your job." He smiled calmly at Mrs. Williams. "I'm pleased to see you here, ma'am. If you'll excuse us, though, it seems my arse of a neighbor can't be bothered to help out properly." Without waiting for a reply, Arthur spun around and dragged Francis off with him, his grip surprisingly strong.

"Arthur!" Francis hissed, trying to draw back. "I was simply trying-"

"Stuff it, frog," Arthur snapped. "You were terrorizing the poor woman. I told you before, Matthew isn't harmed any at home and you don't go around accusing mothers of mistreating their children."

"I wasn't accusing her of any such thing!" Francis finally pulled back from Arthur, though even he knew better than to go back to Mrs. Williams now. "I just...Arthur, please understand...I love _Matthieu_ and I want the best for the boy. I _hate_ the fact that he's in her home. She doesn't pay him much attention. Did you know that I heard him tell Alfred that his mother wasn't the type to cry if he were to die?"

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise at this. "What-"

"And when Alfred told him that his mother loved him, _Matthieu _didn't respond. He just changed the subject." Francis looked tired as he slumped into a seat. "I think my heart broke in two upon hearing that. I can't stand knowing that...that _Matthieu_ _knows_ he isn't loved. No wonder the boy is so shy and quiet."

It was silent for a few minutes, the hustle and bustle of the setup around them forgotten as they both focused on a much bigger issue. "Francis, I know how you feel, but...honestly, what can we do? Matthew's mother does care for him, and we very well can't get him out of there by just saying that we love him more. That won't work."

"I know." Francis sighed, running his fingers through his hair and, once again, looking very lost and confused. "I shouldn't have behaved that way towards her, but...never mind." He stood, and gave Arthur a forced smile. "I'm going home. Care to bring me my plates after this is over?"

Arthur wanted to argue, to tell him to finish his job, but he wasn't a cruel man. He wasn't about to force Francis to be in the same room with Mrs. Williams, not when he knew just how upset Francis was. "Fine," he mumbled. "I'll drop them by later this afternoon."

* * *

><p>Mrs. Williams was nowhere to be seen when the children finally came in to eat. "I thought you said your mom would be here, Mattie," Alfred said, looking around the room.<p>

Matthew poked at his food, obviously a bit down. "Well...maybe she had work. It's okay, your father says she did show up to drop off some food, so that's good, right?"

Arthur felt sick just hearing that. He shared Francis' sentiments on the subject of Matthew's mother, but he felt helpless. He couldn't _make_ Mrs. Williams care. He couldn't make her see just how much she was hurting her son. And that made him feel rather ill, knowing that Matthew was probably so lonely and unloved at home and he couldn't do a thing about it.

Alfred frowned. "I wanted to meet her, though!"

"Maybe some other time, Alfred," Arthur muttered, pushing his plate aside. He couldn't eat now, not when Matthew was looking so hurt. "Matthew, would you like to spend the night with us tonight?"

Matthew glanced up, his face suddenly hopeful. "Can I?"

Arthur smiled. "Of course. I'll phone your mother and see if I can't take you home with me. You can borrow some of Alfred's clothes, and..." He lost his smile, realizing what he was doing. "Well...if you boys wish, I can invite Francis over and we can all go bowling or something."

If anything, the mention of Francis just made Matthew look even more happy. "Really? Is that okay?"

Alfred clapped his hands. "Thanks, Dad! We'll be real good and we'll beat everyone in bowling!"

Matthew and Alfred began chattering away, and Arthur was pleased to note that Matthew's eyes suddenly lost their previous discontentment, replaced now with the childish innocence he _should_ have. If he could have his way, he'd make sure that Francis could gain custody of Matthew. He knew that both of them would be much better off, much happier, if they were a family. However, life wasn't fair, he knew that much, and there wasn't any sort of loophole to this. Matthew was stuck with his mother and father.

He came out of his depressing thoughts when he saw Alfred suddenly reach over and grab a handful of cookies. "Alfred, put those back, you haven't even finished-"

"Canputemback," Alfred said, his voice muffled by the cookies he had stuffed into his mouth.

Matthew giggled and Arthur just sighed, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.

If he couldn't fix anything, he might as well just let Matthew have as much fun as he could.

* * *

><p><strong>We have one more chapter left, guys! And...um, just an FYI...Francis WILL NOT be adopting Matthew out by the end of this series. I mean, c'mon- there's really no possible way I could pull that off without making it seem incredibly unrealistic.<br>**

**THERE IS STILL HOPE, THOUGH! I've been planning on making like...a little set of shorts that center in this universe. I can't just put Matthew's sad life and Francis' wish to adopt him in here without expecting some sort of happy ending. So...if I get enough comments on it, um...yeah, I'll totally add in a story about how Francis was finally able to adopt Matthew. It might be some years later, but it will happen. Just leave a comment on what you think I should do!  
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**Please feel free to review, as well! I respond to every review (unless I forget, in which case you may feel free to bash me over my head with a mermaid).  
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**ALSO! I have a Tumblr now. I'll be posting up random...stuff, be it stories, drabbles that don't make it to FF, ideas, pie, pictures of my cats, and I can answer every question you guys throw at me! =D Feel free to check it out, link's in my profile.  
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**Have a lovely day, everyone!  
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	12. December

**...It's done. Kinda, like, in shock right now. I thought this would never be completed. You guys honestly have no idea how difficult this chapter was for me. I believed it was cursed. I lost the original copy, had to start over from scratch, had to take a LE WILD TRIP to my aunt's, had to sob as I thought my computer to be broken, then had to somehow finish this for you lovely readers.**

**Oh, and after I finished it, I found the original copy (it was in the folder for my other fanfic 'A Dozen Ways to Be the Hero', and it was given the same name as those chapters are). Life hates me. Anyway, this is STILL the rewritten copy. So...yeah.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
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><p>Alfred stared out of the window with a forlorn expression, looking so incredibly glum that Arthur was a little bit on edge. Alfred's tempers came and went as they pleased with no regard for anyone else and Arthur was certainly not in the mood to have to deal with his son's grumpiness.<p>

"Dad?"

Pretending like he hadn't just been staring at his son and waiting for him to blow up, Arthur quickly went back to his needlework. "Yes, Alfred?"

"Why won't it snow?" Alfred was now facing his father, cheeks puffed out in annoyance. "The weatherman said we had a chance of snow, but there isn't _any_."

Arthur sighed. Not this again. Every single winter, Alfred begged and begged for snow. He didn't seem to care that Arthur couldn't do anything about it, and neither could the weatherman. No, if someone so much as stated that it _looked_ as if it might snow, Alfred would be there waiting. "I don't know, lad," he replied, already exasperated. It was even afternoon yet, either. "You know we get snow later on in the winter. Not much comes in December."

Alfred groaned, flopping down on the couch and no longer sitting on his knees. "But I want snow!"

"I'm sorry, Alfred, but I don't know when it will come. I've already told you that I'm no magician. I can't just _summon_ the snow."

"But Mattie told me it snowed all the time when he lived in Canada! I want snow to come here!" He placed his hands across his chest, trying to show his displeasure (although all he succeeded in doing was making Arthur smile in amusement). "Why can't we move to Canada?"

Arthur shrugged. "Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I said so, that's why." Arthur placed his needlework aside and stood. "Now, put on a smile or I'll give you some work to do." When Alfred didn't respond, Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You would rather do work than play? Alright, suit yourself."

Once Alfred realized that Arthur was serious, he quickly shook his head. "No! No, I'm...I'm smiling. See?" He tried giving a smile, even if he did make certain that Arthur could very much tell it was forced.

Arthur smirked. "Close enough," he muttered. "To cheer you up, why don't I give you a surprise?"

Alfred looked instantly interested. "What sort of surprise?" he asked, following his father to the kitchen.

Beginning to work on some dishes, Arthur said, "You told me you wanted to go to England to see your uncles, correct? Well, as it turns out, they're coming here for Christmas vacation. Not the little one, Peter, mind you, but the other three are." He glanced over at Alfred, who was now looking more excited than he had been when he heard about the slight possibility of snow. "They really wish to see you, and possibly make my life a living nightmare for an entire week." When he noticed Alfred hadn't said anything, he blinked. "Er...does that sound okay to you?"

"They...they want to see me?"

"Yes, that's what I was told."

Alfred grinned widely, then began to jump up and down. "Seriously?" he squealed. "I get to meet my uncles? That's so cool, Dad! When are they coming, huh? Will they be here tomorrow? Do I have to sleep on the floor, 'cause I totally will if that means they can come and sleep in my bed and play with me! How much do I have to clean? Do you think they'll mind my stuffed animals? Lovi says boys my age aren't supposed to sleep with teddy bears anymore-"

"Hush." Arthur silenced Alfred with a simple smile. He was pleased his son was so enthusiastic to be meeting his uncles. He had always known Alfred wanted to, but he just assumed that was because they lived in England. "They'll be here in a week and they'll be staying a week. I do believe Noah will probably take your bed, Camden can sleep in our guest room, and I'll just stick Jacob on the couch. We'll figure out sleeping arrangements later. And honestly, I highly doubt they'll dislike a thing about you, Alfred. They're very much looking forward to this visit."

He was a bit nervous when it suddenly fell silent and glanced over at the young boy. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I was just wondering, do you have a mom?"

Arthur blinked. "O-Of course I do," he replied, a bit confused as to why Alfred would ever ask that question.

"You never talk about her and I've never seen her or...or _anything_." He crossed his arms. "Everyone else has a grandma! Why can't I have one?"

"You do, she's just...we're not on very good terms, you see?" He sighed. "She never talks to me anymore."

"Why?"

Arthur turned off the sink, hands dripping with soapy water and hesitated on his next answer. "She...I don't believe she appreciated the choices I made when I was younger."

What choices?"

Why did little children have to ask questions on _everything_? Arthur wiped his hands off, taking in a deep breath and wishing very much for this conversation to never happen. "I left home when I was younger and..."

"Oh." Alfred nodded as if he completely understood. "I bet she's one of those mean ladies who made you do chores. No wonder you ran away." He smiled. "Do my uncles still live with her?"

Thankful to be on a slightly different topic, Arthur didn't mind answering. "Only Peter," he said. "The rest are old enough to have their own places. Of course, they all still live near each other, so they catch up quite a bit."

Alfred grinned widely, all thoughts about his grandmother forgotten. "And now they can catch up with me!" he exclaimed. "Are they bringing me any Christmas presents, Dad?"

"Knowing them, they most likely will." Arthur groaned. "I need to tell them nothing too big. They'll probably buy you something off the wall, just to see me in a fit of rage."

Not surprisingly, Alfred didn't mind that. "Seriously? Oh boy, I can't wait!" He looked about ready to wet himself with excitement. "I'm gonna go clean my room to impress them and show them how mature I can be! Then they'll buy me even more stuff and we'll be best friends! And I'll be the only kid in school who is best friends with his uncles!" Without another word (although he did give a few squeals of joy), Alfred raced off.

If Arthur had known that was what it took to get his son to clean his room, he would have said all of that much sooner.

* * *

><p>"Your cooking has gotten considerably more edible since last time I saw you, Artie," Jacob exclaimed, biting down on one of the green beans. "I mean, I can actually see a color other than black in here."<p>

Arthur scowled. "Yes, because your cooking is _so_ much better than mine. Why, I doubt you even know how to use a stove!"

Jacob smirked. "Ah, see, there's where you're wrong. I reheated some curry with a stove just a mere week ago." This earned snickers from the other two brothers while Arthur simply glowered.

"Say, who's that bloke across the street from you?" Camden asked, stabbing at his chicken. "He was eying us curiously, and he looked-"

"That's Francis!" Alfred piped in, all too pleased to answer his eldest uncle. "He's an awesome guy! He makes real tasty food and he lets me and Mattie play in his boat."

"Mattie and me, Alfred," Arthur gently corrected, his gaze softening when his son spoke.

Camden nodded. "Mm. So, I assume you go over to his place a lot, right?" Alfred nodded, and Camden laughed. "You have to run from your father's cooking sometimes, huh?" Alfred joined in on the laughter this time, though he looked a bit confused as to why they everyone was laughing (well, everyone except for his father, that is).

Noah was the one to cease jokes about food. "All teasing aside, how's life, Artie? Meet any girls lately?"

The three brothers smirked when they saw Arthur's mood dampen even more so. "That isn't an appropriate subject for the dinner table," he growled. "Especially not in front of Alfred."

"I don't mind!" Alfred said, pushing his green beans far away from his chicken. "I fell in love once, too!"

Thankfully, Arthur's brothers seemed to find this absolutely endearing and so they stopped trying to get out information on his love life. "Really?" Jacob cooed, ruffling Alfred's hair. "Why don't you tell us a bit about her?"

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "Nah. She didn't like me back. I think it's 'cause we're not rich or something. But I liked her once, and I don't anymore, so I must have girl troubles."

Trying to hold back his laughter, Noah sent Alfred the most apologetic glance he could muster at the moment. "Difficult, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Alfred sighed, stuffing his mouth full of chicken. "Bu I hawf de bet fend e-"

"_Manners_, Alfred, goodness. Do _not_ speak with your mouth full. Honestly, haven't I taught you anything?" Arthur was exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Eat first, then speak."

Rolling his eyes, Alfred finished chewing before repeating himself. "But I have the best friend ever, and he also had girl troubles, so we float in the same boat. Oh, and he also likes to play in Francis' boat with me. Except now it's getting colder out here, so we don't play outside much anymore."

"Getting cold? Bloody hell, it feels like summer here!" Noah said.

"_Language_, Noah!" Arthur snapped. "For heaven's sakes, can't any of you control your mouth for a single minute?"

Noah looked down at his plate sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Alfred grinned. "Daddy says that word all the time, so it's okay! I'm used to it!"

"Wh-What? I do not say that!" Arthur sat up straighter in his chair, looking both flustered and affronted at the same time. "I happen to know when to keep my mouth shut around you, Alfred, since you're the boy who used to copy every little thing I said back when you were just a toddler." Scanning over Alfred's dirty face, however, he sighed. "I sometimes doubt that you've grown up at all. Wipe your face, lad, you're a complete mess."

Alfred, not wanting to seem like a pig in front of his uncles, quickly did as he was told, a small blush rising to his cheeks. "S-Sorry, Dad," he muttered.

"Aw, Artie, you made the poor kid upset!" Camden, sitting on Alfred's right, was quick to pat the boy's shoulder, while Jacob, on his left, grabbed Alfred's hand.

"You're not a complete mess. You're a perfect little boy, and I've a right mind to steal you away from Arthur and keep you all to myself."

Camden reached across Alfred and lightly smacked Jacob's head. "Oi! I called him first! Once I saw him, I said, 'Ah, now there's me a wee boy that I wouldn't mind kidnapping'."

"You men need help," Arthur grumbled, serving himself more tea.

* * *

><p>When Francis came to the door a few days later and explained that he would be going out of town and, therefore, wished to give Alfred and Arthur their Christmas gifts early, the three visiting brothers also crowded around, causing Francis to blink in surprise.<p>

"My," he exclaimed. "I wasn't aware you had company."

"Mm, unfortunately." Arthur glared over at Noah, who was chuckling something about 'dirty Frenchmen'. "I've been trying to get rid of them, though. They cause quite a ruckus."

Camden snorted. "Aw, lil' brother, you don't mean that!" With a wink towards Francis, the eldest Kirkland said, "He's just a grumpy man. I'd say it's because he has a child to take care of, but Alfred is such an angel that I couldn't even begin to imagine how on earth he could make _anyone_ grumpy."

Alfred grinned, pleased at being called an angel, then handed over his own present to Francis. "I saved up my allowance to buy you this!" he cheerfully stated. "I hope you like it!"

Moving the package under his arm, Francis smiled at the child. "I'm sure I will, Alfred. _Merci_."

Jacob poked Arthur's arm. "You never told us you were friends with a Frenchie!" he said. "What else are you hiding?"

"Next he'll be telling us that a Chinese couple lives down the street." Camden snickered, ignoring Francis' slightly confused stare.

Just as Arthur was about to blow up on his brothers, Alfred decided to join in. "But we do have a Chinese guy living down the street! His name's Yao, and he has a little boy named Kiku, who is one of my bestest friends, 'cept Kiku isn't Chinese 'cause he's adopted from Japan or something." He tugged at Arthur's sleeve, oblivious to the fact that his father looked quite ready to drop dead. "Dad doesn't get along good with him, but I like him just fine!"

Before any of the Kirklands could speak up, Francis said, "Arthur doesn't really get along well with anyone, Alfred. It's just how he is."

It was silent as everyone gawked at Francis (Arthur in anger, Alfred in agreement, and the others in surprise), but Camden finally exclaimed, "I _like_ this bloke, Artie! He's bloody intelligent!"

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled, hating this visit more and more by the minute.

"No, really, he knows you so well! It's almost as if he can read your mind!"

Jacob snorted. "If he could read Arthur's mind, he would be suffocating from such dirty thoughts."

Francis laughed, enjoying the show, especially when Arthur retaliated by smacking his brother's shoulder.

"All of you had better shut it," the Englishman snapped irritably. "I do not have dirty thoughts and I would appreciate it if you would quit implying such things around my son!"

His son, however, didn't really seem to care what it was they were implying about Arthur. He seemed more interested in the presents Francis had just passed over to him. "What's in here?" he asked.

"You'll find out on Christmas morning," Francis said with a wink. "And Arthur will find out what's in his at the exact same time." He smiled at the Briton who was obviously unwilling to forgive him just yet. "I don't have any presents for your guests, Arthur, as I was unaware that they were arriving, but perhaps you'll share what you have with them?" With a smirk, he gave a wave. "I'll see the two of you later. _Au revoir!_"

The Kirklands stared after him and, once Arthur closed the front door, burst into laughter.

Camden was the first to speak. "Arthur, you're friends with a _Frenchie_?" he asked. "What was it you said when you were younger? Oh, yes- 'I'll never speak to those frog-eaters'!" He snorted. "Nice job keeping to _that_ promise."

Jacob clapped Arthur's shoulder when he noticed the deep scowl his brother was sporting. "Relax, old chap, we're just messing with you a bit!"

"Yes, well, I'd prefer it if you didn't mess with me at all." Arthur took the presents from Alfred's hand with a sigh. "Go do whatever it is you dolts enjoy doing. I'm going to make myself a nice cup of tea and read a book." And, just before he walked off, he snapped, "And keep it _down!_"

* * *

><p>Alfred could never fall asleep on Christmas Eve. He would lay awake all night in bed, up into the early morning hours, until his exhaustion kicked in and he dozed off. Of course, he never stayed asleep for long and would always awake just a bit later, ready to open his presents.<p>

He tossed and turned in bed, glancing out the window every so often, in hopes that he could possibly spot Santa Claus (although Lovino told him that Santa was fake, Arthur mentioned that Lovino was just unimaginative).

"Alfred, please stay still," Arthur mumbled from his spot in bed. Since Noah had indeed taken Alfred's bed, the young child was stuck with his father for the time being. "I can't sleep when you keep kicking me like that."

Pouting, Alfred snuggled up closer to the Englishman. "But I'm not tired," he whispered, not wanting to wake any of his uncles. "I'm never tired on Christmas Eve.

"Mm, but the elves won't help Santa get in the house if you don't sleep. Remember, they're watching us right now."

Alfred blinked and glanced around before Arthur added, "They're invisible."

Nodding as if that made perfect sense, Alfred did as Arthur commanded.

Only for a minute or two.

"I can't sleep," he whispered again.

With a groan, Arthur propped himself up. "Must I tell you a story?" he asked, looking just the slightest bit aggravated.

However, Alfred shook his head. "No." He looked pleased as he, too, sat up and wrapped his little arms around his father. Arthur's irritability melted at that gesture, and they were able to sit in a comfortable silence for a little bit.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"When will it snow again?"

Arthur sighed, pulling Alfred closer to him. "When you stop asking, you little tyke."

But his tone was teasing and Alfred could tell. And as they rested peacefully together, Alfred was able to reflect on all the past days, weeks, months, and years they spent in each other's company. Maybe not all of them were good, maybe not all of them were fun, but should any of them have never taken place, life would have possibly been different. A new course might have been etched and new experiences might have been made.

Despite Alfred's love of new events and different scenarios, he was even more content that everything worked out the way it did.

"Next year's gonna be just as awesome, right, Dad?"

Arthur smirked, glancing down at his son and giving his forehead a kiss. "No. I reckon it'll be even more so."

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><p><strong>CHEESY ENDING IS SO CHEESY, HAHAHAHA! I've been in a cheesy mood lately, ask anyone.<strong>

**Anyway...it's over. Not nearly as good as I wanted (the other Kirkland brothers have zero personality to them, I feel- they're all the same, and same is boring, but I knew that if I started going in-depth with them, this would have been a few chapters longer which would have messed up my title _which we wouldn't want, now, would we?_). But...it's finished and it's an okay ending. I think. **

**But you guys tell me in the reviews, will ya? :D  
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**I enjoyed writing this fic so much, and thank you to every single person who reviewed/alerted/favorited/lurked. I love each and every one of you. Great big kisses and hugs and everything!  
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**Also, if you'll miss me a lot (I know you will), feel free to follow me or talk to me, or just simply check out some other fics I wrote. And...now I bid you people farewell from this fic. Even though I might make a few oneshots explaining more. Derp. XD  
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